Compare and Contrast
by deepfriedcake
Summary: The Poes are in town, there's a fire at the Independence Inn, and something else finally flames up between Luke and Lorelai.
1. A Midnight Dreary

**Original A/N:** "A Tale of Poes and Fire"―certainly one of my favorite episodes ever. So many funny lines. So many weird vibes. So much to love. A lot of wonderful stories have been written about this episode and now I feel compelled to add one to the mix. A warning: Luke and Lorelai share narration duties in this story, so if that sort of back-and-forth drives you buggy, this isn't the story for you. And as with all of my stuff, I'm using some things straight from the show, while blithely ignoring other bits as it suits my fancy...

**8/31/13: **Yep, I still love this episode. And over time, this first chapter has remained one of my personal favorites. In fact, there's one paragraph in this chapter that still makes me proud every time I read it. I'll give out points if anybody guesses it! (Disclaimer: Unfortunately the points don't matter...but everything _is_ made up! And no, I have no claim on anything regarding _Whose Line Is It Anyway,_ either.)

A slight warning: This story was deliberately written on the dark and dramatic side. It's a little 'Poe-esque,' if you will. Things may look dire, but please remember who is writing this. Not to give anything away, but there's _probably_ a good chance for a happy ending! Also, I haven't quite decided yet what to do about the rating for the end chapters, since there's a little sexy stuff (Very little - don't get your hopes up!) and a couple of bad words.

And finally...No, I haven't forgotten about _Star-Crossed_. I just don't have the next chapter ready to go yet but since I really felt like posting, I decided to start this story to satisfy my craving! _Star-Crossed_ soon, I promise!

...I invite you now to "Compare and Contrast!"

* * *

**A Midnight Dreary**

"I'm going to need that pen back," Nicole said with a level of smugness that didn't sit well with Lorelai at all.

She looked down at the expensive silver pen resting lightly in her right hand. She took a moment to appreciate the deep burgundy color on her nails; a shade so dark it could pass for black in Miss Patty's dimly-lit space. She was standing in front of Nicole, and the hand not holding the borrowed pen rested lightly on her leather-clad hip.

_Leather?_

Yes, leather. Lorelai's forehead scrunched up while she turned her focus on her outfit. A short, tight black leather miniskirt. A clingy black sweater that sparkled when she moved. And insanely dynamite tall black boots that made her long legs look fabulous.

She took her hand off of her hip and used it to flick back her gleaming, straightened hair before bracing herself on the chair next to Nicole. She leaned down to speak softly into the pale woman's ear.

"Oh, Nicole," she said with a malevolent chuckle, "I think we both know that your pen isn't what you're worried about getting back."

Nicole turned her head when Lorelai invaded her space. She grimaced as Lorelai spoke into her ear so intimately. But when Lorelai pulled away with a pleased, triumphant smile on her mouth, Nicole drew upon some inner lawyer-ish reserve of strength and fired back.

"But yet, _I'm_ the one who has him," she said, her voice and face still retaining that irritating smugness that made Lorelai want to scream. She even dared to look Lorelai straight in the eye.

Lorelai confidently put both hands on her shapely hips and looked down at Nicole with something that was almost pity. She felt her mouth purse with a pouty smile. Once again she leaned down to impart her wisdom to this clueless woman.

"You have him for now," she purred, making Nicole flinch. "And the only reason for that is because I haven't―"

"Moooommmm," Rory whined sleepily.

Lorelai tried to ignore the interruption. She focused everything on the rushing flow of confidence fueling her words. "The only reason is because I haven't―"

"Mooommm," Rory said again, and suddenly Rory was right there next to her, the bed still undulating with her added weight. She felt the cordless phone being jabbed into her shoulder.

"No, Rory!" she said desperately. At least, that's what she wanted to say, but in actuality only a muffled groan came out. She clung with all of the dream-strength she could muster to the burgundy nails and the tight leather skirt and that air of self-assurance. She really, _really_ needed to hear what she was going to say next.

"The only reason―" she started to say again, but now she sounded more frantic than confident, and Nicole looked at her with a smirk.

"No!" she yelled out loud, distraught.

"Mom." Rory jabbed her with the phone again. "It's Tobin. He says the smoke alarm is going off."

"That stupid thing is always going off," Lorelai muttered, her dream still seeming more real than anything else. But she took the phone and held it in the vicinity of her ear. "Tobin, you know that―"

She gasped and her body pulled itself upright. "Oh my God. Get dressed, _get dressed!_" she ordered, pushing at her daughter.

The fabulous boots and whatever she was going to say to Nicole blinked out of her consciousness as a real-life nightmare took center stage.

* * *

Luke never dreamed.

He worked hard, all day, every day. When he finally went to bed each night he was ready to sleep. His head hit the pillow and his brain turned off. It was an efficient and logical system, designed to permit him as much rest as possible before the pre-dawn alarm clock made him get up and start his daily grind all over again.

Occasionally, life got messy and when his head hit the pillow his brain refused to turn off. On those rare nights he simply got out of bed and paced while his thoughts ran over whatever was bothering him, trying to find a solution. Recently his nephew had caused more of those nights than he cared to admit. In addition there was sometimes his sister and the dire turns her life preferred to take. Finances had made him stay awake a night or two over the years. And of course, there was always Lor―

_Never mind._

The point was, he never dreamed. So when his sleeping brain registered the sirens, he woke up already knowing that they were real and not part of some hazy dream.

His brain was awake and functioning but his legs and feet were still insisting they wanted to stay horizontal. He staggered to the window in time to see the flashing lights of every emergency vehicle servicing Stars Hollow racing onto Poplar from Main Street, heading east out of town.

His arms folded over his chest while he watched the lights disappear. The sirens got fainter. He stood there and contemplated every possible destination on that end of town. One in particular made his heart beat faster, and somehow he just knew he was right.

He grabbed the clothing he'd laid out for the morning and hastily started getting dressed. He glanced at Jess but his nephew was sound asleep, his head buried underneath his pillow. If he could sleep in spite of the music he piped into his brain, of course he could sleep through sirens blasting by on the street.

Luke thought about leaving him a note, but he was so anxious to follow the fire trucks and prove himself wrong that he just ran out the door, deciding that Jess probably wouldn't miss him anyway.

The night was clear but still frosty, even though it was practically spring. He needed to run the windshield wipers on the truck to clear the thin film off of the glass.

He turned down a road he knew as well as everything else in this town and his heart beat even faster when his hunch was confirmed.

He parked the truck as far off the road as he could and sprinted up the drive, his nose wrinkling at the strong smell of smoke. Onlookers were already massing behind a line of yellow tape being hastily strung up by Larry Coopersmith, one of the county's deputies.

Luke pushed himself through the crowd, presenting himself to the constable. "Hey, Coop."

The deputy drew himself up, preparing for a confrontation, but relaxed when he recognized Luke. He nodded in greeting, then jerked his chin back over his shoulder. "Hell of a thing."

"What's goin' on?" Luke asked, trying not to sound as agitated as he felt.

"Fire," Coop answered. "Kitchen, probably. Don't know too many details yet."

"Everybody OK?"

Coop glanced at him as he finished tying off the caution tape. "Far as I know everyone's accounted for."

Luke nodded, trying to feel some gratitude for that much information, but he knew that wasn't going to keep him content for long. "Hey, Coop, I really need to get up there." He couldn't keep the urgent note out of his voice.

Coop paused and looked at him sharply. "Why, Luke? That fancy little lawyer you're dating staying here tonight?"

"No," Luke choked out. He gritted his teeth while Coop looked him over. He figured Coop heard as much gossip as anyone else in this inbred town―probably more, for that matter.

After what seemed like hours Coop shot him a tight smile. "You know I can't do that, Luke." He paused, scanning the rest of the onlookers. "But if someone was a local, and happened to already know another way onto the property, I couldn't really stop that, you know?"

"Thanks, Coop," Luke said quickly, and turned at once to rush back down the drive.

He turned to his right at the street and tried to judge his distance while he jogged further down the roadway. After a dozen or so yards he slowed to examine the darkened landscape, finally spotting a plank laid across the ditch in a makeshift footbridge. He raced across, barely breathing as the old wooden board protested his weight. He pushed his arms at the hedge stretching in front of him and finally found a gap that at one time had been a gate. He forced his body through the opening and at last stood free on one of the tennis courts at the Independence Inn.

He followed the slope of the lawn upward, past the swimming pool. The stench of the smoke was overpowering up here, sticking in the back of his throat and making his eyes water. The closer he got to the sprawling building, the more noise and confusion he encountered. Walkie-talkies squealed and fireman shouted to each other over the din, while the yellow and red lights kept up their steady flashing circuits through the dark, illuminating the different clumps of people huddled together.

He kept to the edge of the scene, walking quickly and keeping his head down, careful to stay out of the way. His eyes never stopped searching, however, and his ears were straining to hear one particular voice.

Finally he spotted her. She was standing with Rory, Sookie, and Michel, and her arms were flailing manically as she issued orders. He watched as Sookie and Michel stepped away, obviously being sent on some assignment. He watched as she took a moment with Rory, the two of them sinking into each other's arms, before she sent the girl away, too. He watched as she began to walk away herself, but then stopped abruptly and came back and angrily snatched a cellphone from Michel, giving him a push to get him started on his way.

She raised a hand to her head, pushing back her hair. She turned from one side to the other, apparently unsure of which way needed her the most. And then she just stood there, in the most un-Lorelai stillness he could ever imagine.

He'd been moving closer to her all along. "Lorelai," he called out to her, softly, and instantly cringed. There was something about her name that always made him feel embarrassed when he said it, as if he'd slipped up and actually called her Baby or Honey. He thought that was why he normally only permitted himself to call her Lorelai when he was angry with her or exasperated, so that his gruffness would counteract the built-in sweetness of her name.

She looked up and spotted him, and he could tell by the slack look on her face that nothing else could surprise her on this night. Except maybe him.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted out.

His feet stopped their march to her as his brain scrambled to find an answer. He'd been so focused on getting to her and making sure she was OK he hadn't thought to prepare a reasonable explanation for his presence.

"Heard the firetrucks go by the diner," he said, forcing his feet to move again. "Wanted to make sure everybody was OK." He was next to her now, trying not to stare at her huge, panicked eyes, which were spotlighted each time the strobes from the firetrucks hit her face. "Do you know what happened?"

She shook her head vigorously. "The fire chief said it'll probably be tomorrow before they can even make a guess. They think it started in the kitchen, but that's not even for sure. I just…I can't believe this is happening."

Luke nodded. "But everybody's OK, right? Nobody got hurt?"

"Yeah, everybody's fine. Everybody's accounted for. We couldn't find Julio for a minute, and that really scared me, because some days he comes in early when he can get a ride with his sister-in-law and I was pretty sure that today was the day she normally brings him and I really thought that maybe he was still in there and nobody had thought to look for him and there was still so much smoke, you know? But then I saw him standing back there," she pointed with a quivering arm while she continued to babble, "and I was just so relieved because this is like one of my worst nightmares, ever, but he was safe. Everyone's safe."

He heard her try to take in a huge gulping breath of air, and he watched her whole body tremble with unspoken fears. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked down at the ground. "Oh, God, Luke. What if…what if…"

He put a hand on her shoulder, giving it a tentative squeeze. "It's OK," he told her. "Whatever bad thing you're thinking about, it didn't happen. It's OK."

She looked up at him then, just barely leaning into his touch, and her eyes were huge with fear, her lips quivering as she tried to keep from crying. He couldn't help but step closer to her. He couldn't keep his arms from encircling her. And there was no way he could stop his hand from pushing her head to his chest and holding it there in comfort.

They stood that way for a long moment, an island of calmness amid all of the confusion. His heart was pounding as she relaxed against him, letting him rub her back and massage her scalp under that mass of silky hair. He was tempted to say so many things to her; things that he'd barely allowed himself to even dream. He bit his lips together and concentrated instead on willing a transfusion of strength from his body to hers.

Eventually she pushed herself away and he reluctantly let her go. Her mouth quirked up at him in a slight variation of her usual spunky smile. "You're going to reek of smoke," she pointed out, her voice sounding much stronger.

"Both of us will," he agreed, stepping back into their normal pattern of speech and proximity.

She motioned towards the fire chief. "It looks like I'm being summoned."

He turned to confirm that and then quickly started to move away. "Yeah, I'd probably better be getting out of here. If there's anything at all I can do to help, just call me, OK?"

"Sure, Luke. Thanks." Again she smiled, backing away.

He nodded and headed back into the safety of the darkness.

* * *

Lorelai turned away from Luke's retreating back and started walking resolutely towards the fire chief, giving herself a quick pep talk about how she could stand to hear whatever he was going to tell her.

However, as she walked the short distance she noticed she could scarcely breathe. She tried to pretend that was from the smoke. She was also shaking uncontrollably. She pretended that was from the whole shock of the fire. And most disturbing of all, she could still feel his arms around her. She could still feel his body pressing up against hers; his hand tenderly caressing her head. There wasn't enough pretend in the world to make that go away.

Right before she reached the Chief, her whole dream about Nicole flashed back through her brain and suddenly the sentence that had eluded her as she was being pulled back to reality completed itself easily.

"You have him for now," she heard herself say to Dream-Nicole, pure power dripping off the words. "And the only reason for that is because _I_ haven't really even tried yet."

The words echoed in her head and slowed her feet, almost making her trip over nothing.

_God help me_, she thought, forcing herself to continue on, _because I really think I want to try._

* * *

Luke yanked open the door to his truck and threw himself inside, gripping the steering wheel with both hands.

He was a disciplined man. He'd learned long ago that the trick was never letting down your guard. The first time you allowed yourself two nightly beers instead of the customary one, it just made it that much easier to drink two the next night. The first morning you hit the snooze button and slept in for another five minutes just meant that it would be easier to stay in bed for ten the morning after that. Ignoring the running shoes in the closet for a week just made it easier to pretend they weren't there the next.

And now he'd broken his most steadfast rule. He'd touched Lorelai Gilmore.

He started the old truck and made a three-point turn, heading back towards the center of town. He let out a growl at his own stupidity, slapping at the steering wheel.

He knew there was no way now that he'd be able to keep himself from touching her again.


	2. Pondering, Weak and Weary

**Author's Notes:** Hi everyone! Glad that a group of you are reading this story and enjoying it so far. Remember that since this is based on an actual episode of the show, I'm quoting some dialogue directly. (And if anyone is wondering, my favorite paragraph from the last chapter is the one where Luke cringes after calling Lorelai by name.)

To my Star-Crossed fans: Next chapter up before the end of the week!

* * *

**Chapter 2: Pondering, Weak and Weary**

Luke was refilling Raymond Beights' coffee cup for the third time when the circus smashed open his door and tumbled inside. More people than he thought even _lived_ in Stars Hollow came crashing through the doorway, most of them carrying boxes and bags of food. It reminded him of one of those clown cars in reverse. Instead of all of the clowns hustling to get out of the tiny car, everyone was trying to force their way inside his diner.

Above all the din was Sookie's shrill voice, giving orders.

"What's going on?" he asked the room at large, but catching Lorelai's eye.

"We had a fire," Sookie told him solemnly.

"You did?" He looked quickly at Lorelai again, and she looked away just as quickly. Guiltily, he thought. Obviously she hadn't told anyone of his impetuous visit to the scene last night. For that, he thought he was grateful. He turned his attention again to Sookie. "Is everyone all right?"

But Sookie was already gone, barging her way back into the kitchen. _His_ kitchen.

"We just need somewhere to make breakfast for everyone," Lorelai explained, helping displaced Inn patrons find seats.

"Well, you can't do it here!" Luke protested. "I'm already making breakfast! For my own customers!" he pointed out.

Lorelai nodded once in understanding and turned to the diner crowd. "All of you who've already ordered, would you be willing to cancel your orders and instead have Sookie's famous blueberry-lemon pancakes, Belgium waffles or Bananas Foster?"

The crowd murmured their approval.

"I'm an island," Luke muttered.

"Dump it, just dump it. I don't want to see it," Sookie ordered. She stepped back out, tying her apron on. "Do you have anything that's not cracked?" she complained, looking through the stack of plates.

"You're the one who's cracked!" he insisted, his anger building.

"Nice way to talk to a pregnant woman," Sookie retorted.

"You're pregnant?" he asked, dumbfounded. "She's pregnant?" he asked Lorelai, trying to confirm what he'd heard.

"Could you be any further behind?" she teased him.

"I don't know," he sighed. He realized suddenly that he hadn't had a chance to really talk to Lorelai for a few weeks. They'd chatted while he poured her coffee, and he'd walked across the street with her last night after the Poe readings while he told her about Jess, but they hadn't really shared much of what had been going on in their lives recently. He couldn't believe he hadn't heard the news about Sookie. He didn't like the feeling that he was on the outside of her life.

Lorelai took a step closer to the counter, standing directly in front of him. Her voice dropped into a lower register and her eyes looked only at him. "I'm sorry, Luke. I'm not anticipating the Inn catching fire ever again. This is a one-time only favor, OK? But you just say the word. You don't want us here, we'll get out of your hair."

He had no power to resist her when she used her serious face; never had, never would. Besides, he'd already told her he'd do anything to help.

"Stay. Cook. Eat," he capitulated. "I'll just go upstairs." He hated that he sounded like such a martyr.

She favored him with a genuine smile and he smiled back, content to see her back to her usual take-charge self.

"Thank you," she told him, the sincerity in her deep blue eyes beating out the appreciative note in her voice. "You're a doll," she added, warmly.

He had to wait a moment before he spoke, worried that the tone of whatever words he would force out would give away more than the use of his kitchen. A shriek from Sookie made him turn away, and a glimpse of flames made him bolt to the kitchen before he could make a total fool of himself.

* * *

Tommy forced a cup of coffee into her hands and she nodded at him gratefully. It was surreal to think that barely 12 hours ago she'd seen him outside of Patty's, talking to Luke, right before Luke told her about Jess' exemplary work hours. It all seemed so long ago, now. Like another lifetime almost.

She found a chair and sank down onto it, her weary body reminding her how long it had been since she'd taken a break. She saw some soot on her hand and grabbed a napkin to try and rub off the reminder of the fire.

Staring at her dirty nails made her have a flashback to her weird dream about Nicole. Not wanting to dwell on that, she grabbed for the coffee, taking a massive gulp.

She did a quick reconnaissance of the diner, pleased to see that everyone was settled and chatting. It appeared that she could continue to sit herself for a minute or two longer. Her vision settled on Luke and she smiled to herself. Even after all of his protests he was jumping in to help her crew. He'd already made another pot of coffee and was efficiently taking drink orders. He was _such_ a good guy.

Pink flooded her cheeks. She scrunched her eyes closed, trying not to remember in too much detail just how good she suspected he was. She was beyond mortified now to think about how she'd allowed herself to melt into him the night before. Here he'd been trying his best to be a good friend, and she'd been oh-so-ready to take advantage of that friendship.

She tried to tell herself it was just the stress of the fire that caused her brain to temporarily misfire, but that thought brought more of the rosy embarrassment to her face. She hated that Luke had seen her lose it. She prided herself on her strength to handle whatever life threw at her, but last night the fire had burned away that self-assurance and she'd melted right down into Luke's arms. Another swallow of coffee helped her remember that it was a new day and she had her confidence back now.

Her gaze made a circuit of the bustling diner again, and as before, ended on Luke. She frowned at his customary hat, because underneath it she knew his hair was close-cropped in what looked suspiciously like a salon cut. Luke was not the type of guy to waste time and money on getting his hair 'styled.' He'd always been the type of guy to finally stop by Pat's Barber Shop on the far side of the square a couple of weeks after he first noticed the hair starting to curl over his ears and down his neck. Pat would give him a quick trim, some bills would exchange hands, and Luke would be on his way again, looking―and this was the important part―like himself.

Not that this new cut wasn't flattering. No, he looked fine. Good, even. It was just that this new hairstyle reeked of aromatherapy and piped-in New Age music and shoulder massages from some chippie named Kimberlee. It reeked of Nicole.

Lorelai speculated that Nicole had needed him groomed to show him off at some sort of lawyerly dinner or other. Nicole had needed him to fit in with the expensive suits and the martinis in the room. Her spine straightened and she bristled at the thought that Nicole felt the need to change Luke into something else. She felt a sudden, brief flare of anger at Luke, too. Why would he go along with it? Swift panic iced over the anger and her fingers gripped the coffee mug. Luke would only go along with it if Nicole had claimed a larger part of his life than what she'd previously suspected.

She covertly observed him again over the rim of her mug. He looked perfectly normal today. Perfectly Luke. A slight hint of agitation, but then, that was normal. Her eyes followed his movements as he filled coffee cups and bussed tables, occasionally giving advice to her Inn workers or stopping to curtly chat with someone. He seemed just the same, in spite of the haircut. He couldn't have really fallen for Nicole. Could he?

Her eyelids closed almost on their own and she could picture him exactly as he looked last night when they had crossed the street together after the interminable Poe readings. Besides the haircut there was the long brown leather jacket, a masculine twin to the one she'd been wearing. Had Nicole picked that out for him, too? Where was his normal green Army one? Her eyes opened in relief as she realized that's what he'd had on so early this morning, when he'd stopped to check on her. That was the fabric she'd felt under her cheek.

She turned slightly, keeping him in view. Her fingers tapped nervously against the table. He'd looked good last night, she couldn't deny that. But then, the man made _flannel_ look good. In the Poe-like moonlight illumination of the street last night his new haircut and new leather coat made him look _too_ damn good. She preferred to keep those looks covered up with the shirts and the hat and the scruffy coat. No need to broadcast that prettiness to everyone.

She wondered what they'd looked like last night when they crossed the street in their matching jackets. Did they look like a couple? A self-satisfied smile turned up her mouth as she took another sip of coffee. If Nicole had picked out his coat, she'd failed. Nicole was the one who'd looked out of place, sitting there in her white sweater. Instead, Luke looked like he belonged with her.

That idea smacked her back to reality and she looked around furtively, afraid that someone sitting close by could have tapped into her thoughts. And seriously, was that really what she needed to be doing right now? Sitting here and trying to turn her and Luke into a couple? Come on! He was Luke and that was that. This was not the time to be entertaining those annoying 'what if' thoughts that buzzed around her head and dreams periodically.

She took one last sip of coffee and stood up decisively, ready to get back into action. She smiled at the family she'd been sharing the table with and turned to head for the door.

Luke noticed her leaving and his gaze caught hers. He didn't smile at her exactly, she noticed. It was more like his whole face softened and warmed at the sight of her. Her feet slowed as she realized how often that was the look she saw on his face. Anxiety rubbed against her stomach while she worried that maybe she was no longer the only recipient of that look.

She hit the door but her hand flattened against it instead of pulling it open. Her teeth were mauling her bottom lip. She needed something; she didn't know what. She needed something from him. Something Nicole didn't have.

She whirled back around and headed for him, with no idea of what she was going to say when she reached him.

He straightened when he registered her approach, one eyebrow raised in question.

She felt her usual smile form on her lips but she didn't look at him. When she was directly in front of him she placed her hand flat against the center of his chest, pressing it firmly against him.

"Luke," she started, still with no idea where she was going with this, "could I ask you a favor?"

"You mean besides taking over my whole business?" he asked in his normal irritated/amused tone.

"Yeah, besides that," she agreed, grinning. She let the heel of her hand make slow circles against the cozy flannel. She felt him take in a sharp breath.

"Sure," he said tersely.

She nodded. She tipped her hand slightly, so that two of her fingers were barely able to slide in-between the buttons on the placket of his shirt. Her fingertips could feel the soft cotton of his t-shirt. She exhaled her last breath and her blood pounded in her head and she still had no idea why she was doing this.

"So you know I love Sookie's cooking, right?" she heard her own voice purr.

"Right," she heard Luke mumble. She felt it too, right under her hand.

"But today I don't want Sookie's food," she stated. "I want yours. When there's a chance in the kitchen, would you make me some of your pancakes? Please?" she coaxed in her best flirty voice. Part of her was absolutely appalled at what she was doing. The other part wanted to give her a standing ovation. With a great effort she was able to stop herself from batting her eyelashes.

She finally stole a look at him. His jaw was set and his face was grim, but she could feel things racing and shuddering within him.

"I can do that," he acknowledged, his voice seeming deeper than normal.

She pulled out her fingers and slowly smoothed out the gap she'd made in his shirt. Her smile suddenly deserted her while she stared at his chest. She opened her mouth but could barely pull in enough air to make her lungs work. She swallowed uncomfortably.

"Thanks, Luke," she said, very, very quietly, and then turned and headed straight for the door, not looking back.

_What are you doing?_ she screamed at herself, heading across the street to check on Rory and the kids. She'd just flirted with Luke. Really flirted. She'd fake-flirted with him for as long as she'd known him; flirted so broadly and outrageously that they both knew it was a joke. But today…this was real. She'd had some need to make him see her; really see her. She needed to know that he would do things for her that he wouldn't do for anyone else. What was she thinking?

She noticed, annoyingly, that once again she could barely breathe. Once again her body was shaking. And the only thing that she could feel was the warmth her hand had retained from pressing against his chest.

* * *

Luke watched Lorelai barrel across the street to Rory and a small line of children sitting on the ground, the ends of her long purple sweater flapping up in the breeze. Eventually he realized that it would be a good idea to move. If he kept standing still the way he currently was, breathing erratically and rooted to the spot in disbelief, someone would surely notice and put two and two together.

So he moved, not particularly gracefully or for any real purpose, but he moved back behind the counter and his hands automatically picked up the cleaning rag. He set to straightening up the counter, wiping up spilled sugar and sloshed coffee, his mind free to rehash what had just happened.

She'd touched him. Touched him in a way that had felt intimate. In a way that had felt needy. After all these years, why now? And was that really what happened, or was he just spinning the facts to suit himself?

It was the tone of her voice, he decided, that was so different. The touching, that was strange and different, and…nice, but it was her voice that put what had just happened into a new category. He'd never heard that particular undercurrent in her millions of words before. Sort of pleading. Sort of…desperate.

He glanced back into the chaos of his kitchen, trying to see if he could wedge himself in there to cook her pancakes. Shaking his head at the disarray he retreated back to the coffeemaker, retrieving a fresh pot to make a refill run around the diner again.

He might be crazy. He might just be seeing things he wanted to see. But nevertheless, she had touched him. The spot still smoldering in the center of his chest proved that.

He was just thankful he'd somehow found the strength to stop himself from touching her.

That strength sustained him even as the four little urchins raced into the diner and surrounded him, loudly demanding that he take off his socks and tell them stories.


	3. A Visitor Tapping at My Chamber Door

**A/N:** So apparently I was wrong! (And don't feel badly about that; it happens multiple times a day to me!) There _aren't_ that many of you following this rerun after all! But to you dear hardy souls that are, here's the next chapter! And remember please, that this is going to bend towards a dark, Poe-inspired place, and that Lorelai is very confused at the moment, as is Luke. Neither is completely in control of their actions right now. All clear? Then here we go...

* * *

**'Tis a Visitor Tapping at My Chamber Door**

"Goodnight," Lorelai said.

She reached over and turned off the light beside the bed. The room disappeared into darkness except for the dim light over the stove, which was apparently left on to help Jess navigate through the apartment when he returned from work. She brought her arm back to rest on top of her head and blinked up at the strange ceiling. She wondered what the hell was wrong with her.

The second that the stupid Hatlestads had appeared at her door, her feet apparently had an agenda about getting her out of the house and heading to the center of town. They never deviated towards Sookie's, where she knew an air mattress was still laying in wait in the front hall closet. They didn't turn towards Manny's, even though he'd called her earlier to let her know that his brother's room was available if needed. They didn't even pause at Patty's, where she'd helped set up Red Cross cots just that afternoon.

No, she'd nearly jogged down the main street of town, her feet knowing her goal. Only when she was in sight of that coffee cup logo did she pause, to call Rory. And then she held her breath, fearing that Rory would insist that she come over to the Kim's, where another bed could surely be found. But thankfully that wasn't what Rory had said. Rory did exactly what Lorelai needed her to do. She'd given her permission to go to Luke's.

_Luke's!_ Her body rolled in agitation and the bed creaked loudly. Instantly she stilled. She didn't want him to know the turmoil in her mind. The turmoil that had caused her to push him for special pancakes this morning, just to satisfy some sort of disgruntled yearning within her. The turmoil that had made her later call the diner and leave the message that she wouldn't be back, claiming that she was needed to supervise all of the fire odds and ends at the Inn ― though truthfully she was just too embarrassed to face him right away. The turmoil that continued to churn through her every time she remembered what his arms had felt like wrapped around her the night before.

Now here she was in his bed. _His bed!_ What the hell was she thinking? When she first arrived and was cajoling and teasing him out of it, it had seemed like the perfectly Lorelai thing to do. Plus the thought of just being in his bed had carried the hint of the forbidden. It had seemed exciting; dangerous. Boy, was she wrong.

Now all she could do was squirm with the knowledge that she was in his bed. His tiny bed. How did such a big guy fit into such a tiny bed? How did he make it work when Nicole stayed over? She'd have to be practically on top of hi―

Lorelai sat straight up, gasping, her body wrenching the straightjacket-like sheets from where they'd been tucked around the mattress.

"You OK?" Luke's concerned voice drifted over from his spot on the couch.

"Fine. Fine," she said automatically. She took a breath and forced herself to lie back down, ignoring her pounding heart. "Just thought of something. Sorry."

"Let me know if you need anything," his drowsy voice commanded.

She bit her lips as she stifled an insane desire to giggle. She needed something all right. Valium. A real straitjacket. His warm body on top of hers.

She pressed her hands over her face and forced herself to take slow, calming breaths. She was the one who'd engineered this bizarre situation. She was the one who now needed to find enough grace and dignity to somehow get through it without destroying the relationship she'd cultivated with this man. It was bad enough that the Inn was in shambles. She didn't need to tear apart what she had with Luke, too.

Her arm once again arched over her head, her fingers playing idly with her hair. What possessed her to tell him about the twins? She'd kept the most intimate details of that dream pressed inside of her, not even sharing them with Rory. Why did tonight's surreal circumstances pave the way for those memories to come pouring out of her? How could she have admitted all of the stuff she did? He was an intelligent guy. Now he knew she dreamed about him. Now he knew they'd had dream-sex in order to conceive the twins. And she knew, from the smug tone of his voice when she'd too-late cut off the word 'kiss' that he knew exactly what she was going to say. He knew too much.

_Oh, God!_ Her body writhed in panic. She longed to bolt from the bed. She wanted to run from his apartment; to run away from the humiliation she feared. It was so wrong. Being here was _so wrong_. Having these feelings that she didn't even want to admit were hers―it was wrong. So wrong!

"Tell me about Nicole," she blurted out, desperate to hear anything besides the shrill thoughts inside her own head.

"What?" Luke's voice sounded weary.

"Nicole." Lorelai made herself say the woman's name again. "I mean, it's weird. Don't you think it's weird? You've been dating her for a long time now, and I don't know anything about her. She's this big part of your life, and I don't know her at all. Tell me something about her."

"Like what?" Luke asked warily.

"I don't know." Lorelai's mind was suddenly blank. "She's a lawyer, right? I mean, that must be exciting."

Luke snorted. "If you're thinking it's something like_ Law and Order_, don't. She's not that kind of lawyer. She reads over contracts all day. She works for people like Taylor, for cryin' out loud. Listening to her talk about her day is better than taking a sleeping pill."

"But still. I mean, good for her, right? Good for her having the perseverance to stick with college and law school and have a profession, right? I mean, that's amazing, as far as I'm concerned." She paused a moment, trying to come up with something else to say. "So the two of you must be pretty serious, huh?" She winced after the words escaped her. She was pretty sure she didn't want to hear the answer.

She heard him scoff. "Serious? No, I don't think we're serious," he said dryly.

Her eyes closed in relief, but she had to press on. "But you've been dating for quite a while now, haven't you? And I assume…I mean, you're exclusive, the two of you, right?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "But we're not…" She swore she could hear him shrug. "It's not that serious," he said flatly.

"Is she good to you?" she once again blurted out. She clamped her lips shut. She really needed to get a handle on that.

"_What?_" Luke asked again, his tone moving towards scandalized.

"Well, she was here last night, at a town thing. A dull, dreary town thing. So I assume that means she tries to do things you want to do. Not that you usually want to do town things. But you know what I mean. And she called you tonight. She called to check in with you. She made you laugh." She tried to stop, but the next words came out anyway, sounding wistful. "You have a nice laugh."

As though to prove her point, he laughed. "Yeah, she calls to check in with me. Sometimes I think it's because it's one of the things on her agenda. One more thing she can check off her 'to-do' list for the day. 'Call boyfriend: Check,'" he mocked.

"Oh." She listened to herself breath for a moment. "But still, she made you laugh." She didn't know why she couldn't leave well enough alone. "I try to make you laugh, you know, but usually I think I make you growl instead."

She'd been trying not to look at him through the dim light, but she could hear him propping himself up on his elbow, looking at her. "That doesn't warrant a dirty?" he quizzed her.

She played her words back. "Yeah, maybe it does." She tried to chuckle.

After a pause, Luke said quietly, "Nicole's OK. I think…I think she's been good for me. She's made me…re-evaluate some things."

_Rachel_, Lorelai thought, a new batch of anxiety dripping into her veins. Her mouth was suddenly so dry. She tried to picture where she'd sat the mug of water he'd brought over for her. She licked her lips. "That's good," she muttered. "I'm glad."

And then she willed herself to stay perfectly still and quiet, and prayed for sleep to come.

* * *

Luke breathed cautiously in the dark, waiting to see what she'd say next. After a few quiet minutes he came to the realization she had ended the conversation. Which was good, because he knew they both needed to get to sleep. He also knew that the chance of him falling asleep after her revelation about the twins and just the fact that she was here at all, with her scented lotion and her hairbrush and her pajamas and mere _breathing_ a few feet away from him made that option pretty much impossible.

But above all the weirdness, he couldn't get past the feeling that her being here, in his apartment, just felt so right. Talking to her while they got ready for bed, bringing her some water…it was just right. It _could_ be right. Except…

"So what about that guy you're with?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Guy?" She sounded bewildered. "What guy?"

He didn't appreciate the coyness. "Your boyfriend, Lorelai."

"My boyfriend?" She gave a little giggle, setting his blood to boil. "Who's that? Chief Baker?"

He sat up on the couch, doing his best to glare through the dark. "The guy who took you fishing," he snapped.

"Oh, you mean Alex?" He heard the sheets rustling as she tried to get comfortable. "I don't think he's my boyfriend."

"You don't_ think_―" he fumed, cutting himself off. "You went to New York with him!"

"That was just…" He waited, listening to her get her thoughts together. "He's a friend of Sookie's friend. He's opening a coffee place, so that seemed promising. He's nice, you know? And sometimes it's just fun to get out and do something. But…he's not my boyfriend."

"Really?" Luke scoffed again, with more heat around the word than he'd intended.

She chuckled. "Luke, since I didn't even remember who you were talking about when you asked me, I'm pretty sure. Frankly, I can't even say with any certainty when we went out last. Three weeks ago, maybe? I'm not even sure…" She paused, sounding like she was searching her memory. "I don't even remember where we left it. Was I supposed to call him? Was he supposed to call me? Thanks a lot, Luke," she huffed, pretending to be upset. "Now you've given me one more thing to worry about!"

"I don't want you to worry," he muttered, pulling back about a dozen other questions he wanted to fire at her. "It's late. You need to get some rest."

He heard her sigh. "I don't think that's going to happen tonight," she whispered. "My head's just spinning." She paused and he could hear her rubbing her forehead. "I shouldn't have come here tonight and disrupted your life, too. I should have just kept walking through town." Her voice was soft and sincere and apologetic.

He could hear distress there too, and automatically he wanted to help. A solution popped into his brain and instantly he knew it was a bad idea. A colossally bad idea. Epic. But his legs were already on the floor. He was already moving towards the bed.

"Roll over," he ordered, trying to ignore the lump in his throat and the look he could see shining in her huge eyes even in the dark. Not fear. Something else entirely.

"Luke," she squeaked out.

"Over," he ordered again, throwing out his arm. "Scoot."

She did as he asked, silently. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his knees facing the headboard. He decided the only way to get through it was to not even think about what he was doing.

His hand went to the top of her head and he drew it through the length of her silky hair, flipping it over to one side of her shoulders. Her shoulders jerked away in shock and he heard her take a ragged breath.

"Shh," he soothed her. He stroked through her hair a few more times and then oh-so-gently started to rub her neck and shoulders, barely putting any weight into his movements. After several minutes he felt the tension starting to ease out of her, which encouraged him to continue.

She moaned, a contented, purring sound that caused him to bite his lips and try to ignore what was going on in his own body. "_Goooood,_" she sighed, drawing the word out.

"When I was a little boy," he explained, very softly, "this is what my mom would do on the nights before a big test or the night before we were leaving on vacation. Anytime that I couldn't get to sleep, this is what she'd do."

"Smart lady," Lorelai murmured.

"Very smart," Luke agreed, his hands continuing to slowly move over her back. He felt his cheeks flame, thinking that his mom would kill him if she knew what his thoughts were right now.

After a while he felt her breathing become calm and steady, and he knew she'd drifted off to sleep. His hands had found a rhythm, however, and he didn't seem to have the willpower to stop.

His hands eased over her back, down under her shoulder blades, where her bra would have been if she'd been wearing one. His breath seemed to be choking him, so he solved that problem by stopping his breathing altogether. His hands continued down further, spanning the top of her waist. His fingers found a smooth, warm band of her skin, where her top and her pajama bottoms had separated. He let his index finger trace that silky strip of skin until he felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Finally he was forced to draw in a deep breath and the warm sugar cookie scent drifting up from her skin made him even woozier.

For a moment he sat on the edge of his bed, turning his back to her while his blood pounded and roared in his ears. His hands clutched at the edge of the mattress while he desperately searched for control. Finally he got up and stumbled over towards the couch, sinking down onto it in despair.

His suspicion from the night before had been proven true. He could no longer prevent himself from touching her.

* * *

She was having the best dream. She was warm and cozy and so contented.

"Lorelai," he whispered to her. In her dream, she smiled. He wrapped her name in so much sweetness, and that sweetness just shot right to the core of her.

"I've got to get downstairs," he continued, whispering into her ear. She felt him brush the hair back off of her face and her heart fluttered. "I've reset the alarm for you, OK?"

"Mmmm," she murmured, not capable of speech. She sensed him starting to sit up, away from her, so she looped her arms around his neck and went with him. It was her dream, so of course she could find his lips unerringly. She pressed her mouth against those lips fully, her heart fluttering again at the warmth and softness waiting for her there. His hair was still damp from the shower and smelled faintly like the woods. She pulled back just a fraction of an inch and tasted the tang of his toothpaste. _More_, her body demanded. She needed so, so much more. Her mouth pressed back against his and she applied the tiniest bit of suction to his bottom lip, loving the way it felt between hers.

Somewhere between the first kiss and the second, her brain tried to send her a memo. It tried to point out, logically, how taste and smell didn't actually exist in dreams. Ultimately though, what made her eyes shoot open in panic was his absolute stillness. If this had been a dream, _her_ dream, there would have been no stillness from him.

"Luke," she choked out, all of the humiliation she'd only feared from the night before now drowning her for real. She realized instantly that she had possibly a split second to decide how to spin this. His eyes were clamped closed and he was grasping handfuls of the blankets on either side of her.

"So…Um…Have a nice day at work, sweetie!" She patted the top of his head, trying to sound carefree.

His eyes popped open and he drew in a ragged breath, his face darkening as he stared at her. "What?" he thundered.

"Hush there! Remember Junior," she said playfully, motioning towards Jess asleep across the room. She threw in a wink for good measure, anything to show how not-serious this moment was.

He glared at her, and the hurt and confusion she saw in his eyes made her back up away from him as far as she could, until her back hit the headboard. "Are you _insane_?" he growled, remembering to whisper, however much he may have wanted to yell.

"Probably," she agreed soberly, for one second anyway. "Now, shoo! Go! Go run your annoying business that requires you to get up in the middle of the night!" She blew him a kiss and simpered at him, anxious to show him that this was nothing but just another of her outrageous Lorelai moments.

He opened his mouth and she thought he was going to explode, but instead he got up with such force that the bed bounced. He stalked to the door.

"Bye! Have fun storming the castle!" she quietly trilled at him, waving her hand.

He glared at her one last time before he exited. She held her breath, waiting for the noise of the slamming door to wake Jess. But there was no slam after all. Luke had more control, it seemed, than she gave him credit for.

She huddled under the blankets, curling herself up into a ball. Her fingers sought the pillow, and when she connected with it, she pulled it over the top of her head. For long minutes she just let the embarrassment and humiliation fill her up.

Eventually she realized those feelings had faded. Instead she was remembering the feel of his lips against hers. She was wondering what it would take to get him to actually kiss her back.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_ she despaired, and pulled the pillow back over her face.


	4. Only This, and Nothing More

**Notes:** This chapter begins shortly after the Not!Dream kiss upstairs in Luke's apartment. Buckle up; it gets bumpy from here!

* * *

It was fairly dark at the bottom of the stairs, but Lorelai had been standing there long enough that her eyes had become accustomed to the pale light filtering through the curtain. She could easily see the pattern in the ancient material. She could even make out the individual threads that had been woven into it.

_Move_, she told herself again, for probably the tenth time, but dread still kept her feet stuck behind the curtain.

She could hear Sookie's voice issuing orders to her cooking staff. She could hear Manny and Julio, and sometimes Caesar, answering her. She could hear one of the Faux Poes reciting the opening lines of "Annabelle Lee."

The people on the other side of the curtain were her responsibility. She couldn't keep hiding like this. She'd already taken as much time upstairs as possible, dawdling in the shower and primping excessively with her makeup. She'd even taken the time to straighten her hair. But now it was time to face the music―or probably the rant. She needed to push aside the curtain and step out there.

She drew in a deep breath and her shoulders straightened automatically. She went through her catalog of smiles and picked one out to stick on her face. Her hand went to the curtain and pushed it aside. Her feet took two steps and at last she was in the diner.

"Good morning," she started greeting her Inn refugees. "How was your home away from home? Are you ready for another fantastic breakfast? Good, good! Yes, I hope we can get you your stuff today. Thanks for being so patient!"

She worked her way through the tables like the professional hostess she was, charming and reassuring her guests, murmuring appreciation to the townspeople who'd come to her rescue. And all the while her eyes flitted back behind the counter, trying to meet Luke's. But he kept his jaw tense and his eyes firmly on anything that wasn't her.

Her heart was pounding. This was _so_ not good. She made it to an empty table and sat with her back to the counter, sheltering herself from him.

How could she have been so stupid? It didn't matter if she'd been caught up in some dream. It didn't matter if it'd been his hands that had lulled her to sleep last night. This was not the way she did things, damn it! She didn't let her defenses down. She didn't build up some dream world that'd come crashing down the second she opened her eyes. She didn't squander friendships that had taken her years to solidify.

_He hadn't kissed her back._

She pushed her fingertips hard against the underside of the table, trying to keep herself from running out the door in pure humiliation. She squeezed her eyes shut as her blood pounded out the words in her brain: _He. Didn't. Kiss. You. Back. He. Didn't. Kiss. You. Back..._

She knew she had no business kissing him. She knew there was Nicole. She knew he was taken. She knew he'd done the right thing.

But still…

_He. Didn't. Kiss. You. Back. He. Didn't…_

A hand on her shoulder triggered a shrill little-girl scream from deep inside her and she nearly leapt from the chair.

"Oh, Lorelai, sorry!" It was Jen, one of Inn's workers, rubbing her shoulder soothingly. "I didn't mean to startle you like that. I just figured you needed some coffee." She motioned to the mug she'd sat in front of her.

Lorelai placed a hand over her quick-stepping heart, trying to physically slow it down. "It's OK." She tried to smile brightly at Jen; tried to show her that she was perfectly fine. She _was_ the capable and normal Lorelai. "If there was ever a day I needed coffee, it's today! Thanks, sweetie!"

Jen scurried away to help Sookie and Lorelai immediately raised the mug to her mouth, relieved to have something to do. Her taste buds instantly discovered that it was Sookie's coffee, not Luke's.

_That's OK_, she told herself dully, taking another sip. _I don't deserve Luke's coffee today._ She tried to push away the other thought that had piggybacked along with that one, but it clung on ferociously. _I don't deserve Luke, either._

Thankfully the door opened and Rory skirted through the tables, dropping into a chair beside her.

"Ooh, coffee!" Rory said, zeroing in at once on the mug in front of Lorelai. She hurried up to the counter and soon returned with her own mug.

"Well, that seems to be going well," Rory commented, motioning towards the collaboration of Luke and Sookie behind the counter.

Lorelai cocked her head and listened to Sookie's sunny voice and Luke's deep one talk about ricotta fritters and Cajun eggs Benedict. The tension in her chest eased just a bit while she listened to the obvious pleasure in Luke's voice as he discussed creative cooking with Sookie. Maybe he wasn't as mad at her as she feared.

"There does seem to be a grudging respect there," she agreed, hearing him laugh. He _did_ have a nice laugh.

Jess appeared, feeding Luke some story about having to be at school early to meet with his lab group. He was talking louder than what was necessary, she thought. Probably for her benefit.

"Hey," he said, nervously, to her. He leaned in to Rory, kissing her quickly.

The phone tucked in her pocket rang and as she answered it, she informed Rory, "Your boyfriend snores."

"Didn't need to know that," Rory said peevishly.

For once, the voice she was hearing inside her head was giving her good news. Really good news.

"It is?" she asked happily. "I love you! I love you!" She palmed shut the phone and looked at Rory. "We're open," she revealed to her, standing instantly to announce the good news to everyone else.

"That was Chief Baker, and he just told me in that deep, sexy voice of his that the Inn is back open!" She hastened to add, as a small cheer erupted, "It's just me and the staffers for now, but we'll get your stuff out soon and have you all on your way home in no time!"

Fred Larson, Tampa dentist, stood. "Lorelai, we'd like to give this to you, to thank you for all of your hard work." He handed her the raven and she put aside her revulsion and accepted it.

"Thank you, Fred," she said, as graciously as possible.

"It's from all of us," the other Poe muttered darkly.

She turned, gracing everyone with her smile of acceptance. "Thank you, _Poe Society,_" she said with emphasis. She tried not to get creeped out by the stuffed, dead bird she was holding. "You coming?" she turned to ask Sookie.

Before she could stop them, her eyes moved from Sookie to Luke. He looked deliberately at the dead bird in her hands, glanced at her, and then rolled his eyes. Her poor battered heart soared with hope. If he was willing to mock with her, maybe he was starting to forgive her.

Sookie clattered around the end of the counter, pointing at Luke while she listed his duties. "Caramelize the hazelnuts for the brioche French toast. Add the Madeira to the pear-poaching liquid. Don't forget the chives and the cream for the shirred eggs."

"Don't burn anything. Got it," Luke said sardonically. His gaze landed on her again, very briefly, but there was just a touch of a smile in it.

Lorelai stepped briskly to the door, her attitude suddenly as sunny as the day outside. Her Inn was back open, and possibly Luke wasn't as mad at her as she thought. Maybe there'd be something good in this day yet.

* * *

Sookie's coral sweater and bright headscarf caught Luke's attention when he stepped out of the kitchen with the first luncheon sandwich. It had been hours since the Inn's workers had left to go meet Chief Baker. Luke served the sandwich quickly and then hurried over to check in with Sookie.

She was staring down at the counter somberly.

"How'd it go?" he asked, immediately apprehensive because of her downcast face.

"Oh, Luke," she sighed. "It's not good." She shook her head emphatically and Luke thought she looked very pale. He remembered with a jolt that she was pregnant, and he took her arm and urged her over to a chair.

"What's not good?" he asked her, sitting down himself in the chair next to her.

She ran her hand over the top of her head, pulling off the flowered silk scarf that had been covering her hair. She concentrated on wrapping the material around her fingers instead of looking at Luke. "Everything," she said sadly. She took a deep breath and he could hear the little catch in it. "It's ruined. It's…" Her voice trailed off as her hands tried to describe the mess she'd seen. "It's going to be a very long time before I can cook anything there again._ If_ I ever do," she admitted, her eyes filling with tears.

Luke hadn't expected to hear that. Kitchen fires happened occasionally. The damage was repaired and the place reopened. He hoped that Sookie was just being overly dramatic, but her quiet depression told him otherwise.

"Are you OK?" he asked. "Do you want me to call Jackson? Do you want some orange juice?" He wasn't sure what you should offer pregnant women, but orange juice seemed a safe bet.

She shook her head, giving him a sad smile. "I'm fine," she told him. "I called Jackson already, and he's going to meet me at home in a little bit."

"Is Lorelai still there?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. She says she's 'in charge,'" Sookie tried to chuckle, but it fell flat. "We got everybody their stuff and they're headed home. She told me to come back here and get everything cleared out so we weren't bothering you anymore." She glanced over at the kitchen, sighing again. "You might as well keep any ingredients that are left over. I'm certainly not going to be using them."

"I've got everything boxed up," he said, pointing back behind the counter. "Why don't you let me drive you home?" He was still worried about how sad and pale she looked.

She smiled at him and patted his shoulder as she stood up. "Thanks, Luke, but I'm fine. You keep the leftovers, though, OK? I really don't want to see them right now, you know?" She pushed in the chair and hesitated a moment, running her hands over the top of it. "It was fun cooking with you. If you ever need another cook, I'm your gal. I have a feeling I'm going to be looking for another job." Her voice was grim.

Luke stood up too, and rubbed his forehead, trying to process the Inn's bleak future. "Does Lorelai know how bad it is? How is she handling…I mean, is she OK?"

Sookie's sharp eyes tracked over his face swiftly. She shrugged. "Lorelai's being the cheerleader. She's trying to make everybody think it's going to be OK. You know how positive she can be about absolutely anything."

"Yeah," Luke agreed.

"But she's doing that thing. You know, where she's smiling, but you look in her eyes, and her eyes are…" Sookie's hands flitted about wildly.

"Yeah," Luke said again, grimacing. He hated when she did that.

"Well, that's how she is. Trust me, she knows the truth," Sookie said gloomily.

Luke watched a downcast Sookie leave the diner. Eventually he became aware that he had a room full of hungry diners who didn't care that other people in town were having their lives torn apart at this moment.

He went back to the kitchen and convinced Caesar to let him cook. His brain functioned better when his hands were occupied with some other task.

Feeling the warmth of the grill on his hands made him remember early this morning, when he'd sat down on the edge of the bed to whisper to Lorelai about the alarm clock. He'd locked his arms as prevention against doing something totally inappropriate. He knew there was no reserve source of strength any longer when it came to her. He'd been shocked to see his own traitorous hand reach out to brush back her hair.

He'd snatched it back and thought he was in the clear, but then her arms had suddenly encircled themselves around his neck. Her soft warmth had been completely overwhelming when she'd pressed herself against him. Time stopped when her mouth covered his and she slowly tasted him. She'd tried so hard to pull him into whatever dream she'd been having, and he'd been so close to agreeing to go with her.

And that was dangerous. So dangerous. Dreams weren't real. He'd learned to guard against dreams a very long time ago.

He'd watched his dad never quite heal after his mom died. He saw the dangers of loving someone too much. He told himself he'd never put himself in that position. He'd never be in danger of losing someone so important that his heart couldn't recover.

But eventually he'd met Rachel. And all of his careful observations flew out the window when he welcomed what he thought was the love of his life. Even now the thought made him scoff while he flipped two burgers and started a new basket of fries. What an idiot he was! He'd tried, over the years, to ease up on the self-recrimination by reminding himself that he was young, just a kid really, when he'd first fallen for Rachel. But that didn't excuse the mess that had erupted the last time she was in town. He was old enough to know better by then. He knew then that although Rachel was many thing, she definitely wasn't the love of his life.

Actually, that was one of the more attractive aspects of dating Nicole. She was completely safe.

Lorelai was not safe. Lorelai was as dangerous as they come. Lorelai was sitting-on-top- of-a-keg-of-dynamite-playing-with-matches dangerous. Lorelai was a _Mythbusters_ 'Let's blow it up with C-4!' level of dangerous.

He realized that Lorelai probably thought he was mad at her about this morning, but he was mad at himself, not her. He understood completely why she'd gone for the lighthearted humor to get them out of that perilous situation. All he knew was that he had to get away from her before he stopped her goofy, nervous comments by pushing her down on his bed and joining her in that dream world she lived in.

For a moment he smiled darkly, picturing the look on Jess' face if his nephew would have awakened to such a sight.

He realized he needed to find a new balance with her. Something other than the physical, precarious thing she was apparently dreaming about. But something that still kept her in his life. He'd found out during the previous gray, dismal summer that he couldn't cope without her around him.

"Need a chicken salad sandwich, Boss, and some fries," Caesar told him, making him jump. "That's probably the last of the lunch rush."

"OK." Luke scooped the burgers onto their buns, nodding his confirmation at the order. Then with a futile sigh, he started two more burgers for a to-go order that hadn't even been placed.

* * *

If there was one thing Lorelai knew how to do, it was to adapt. She'd learned early on how to read a room. She knew how to cut bits loose if they weren't working. She'd learned how to keep a smile on her face and her head held high, no matter how awful the circumstances were.

And today was undoubtedly one of the worst nightmares she'd ever faced. Every person she spoke to gave her worse news than the one before. Each corner she turned presented a scarier vision. Every estimate was higher. Each downtime guess stretched out longer.

But still, every staff member kept looking to her for hope. They all had eyes; they could all see the destruction in front of them. But yet she could tell they were all hoping they were wrong. They were all hoping she'd tell them things really weren't that bad.

So she tried, within reason. She tried to keep smiling. She tried to flirt. She tried to be encouraging. She tried to be upbeat.

Eventually what did her in was the pity. All of them―_all of them_ ―started looking at her with pity. Sookie, Manny, Jen, Julio―even _Michel_ ―they all looked at her with such pity.

Finally she found ways to send them all home. It was so much easier to work with the anonymous insurance guys and the unknown firemen and the electrician whose name she'd already forgotten. None of them knew that the fifth stair, currently blocked with a pile of wet plaster, was where Rory used to sit and watch the goings-on in the lobby every afternoon. None of them knew that the brass sconce now hanging upside down and broken on the wall was 'the wishing candle' and that she'd lift Rory up to it every night before bed to make a wish. None of them knew that she still saw Mia standing at the darkened door to what was now her own office, her arms open to give her a hug, telling her over and over again what a special girl she was.

They didn't know the heartache that surrounded her here today, looking at the ruins of what had been her life.

She felt her shoulders starting to scream with tension again, so she paused, clinging to the check-in counter for a moment. She needed to go call Mia again and give her the latest update. She rubbed at her eyes and took some deep breaths. She knew she was capable of getting through this day. She just needed a way to camouflage the despair she feared would come out in her voice.

"Why are you still here?"

Luke's voice, suddenly right next to her, startled her. She stared at his seemingly angry face. "Why are_ you_ here?" she asked in turn, bewildered. She'd been breathing in the smoky air all day and her voice sounded cracked and raw. She cleared her throat and tried again. "How did you get in here?"

He rattled the Luke's Diner bag in her face. "Told 'em I had a delivery for you," he said, his voice clipped. He grabbed her arm with his other hand. "You need to get out of here," he stated bossily.

"What?" She felt so confused. She'd found a ponytail holder for her hair earlier, but strands were now coming loose and she pushed them back, out of her face. "Luke, you really shouldn't be in here," she pointed out.

"_You_ shouldn't be in here!" he insisted. "This can't be safe for you in here! Look at you! Your face is all covered in soot, and you can barely talk. Let's go! Now!"

"Luke," she sighed. She motioned for him to follow her into her office. She collapsed with a grateful groan down into her chair. "So you brought me food, huh? That was a nice thing to do." She reached thankfully for the bag. "Nero fiddles and Lorelai eats."

He handed it to her but then crossed his arms and looked quickly around the room. "Seriously, is it safe for you to be working in here? You look like hell," he added on in a mutter.

"You are _such_ a sweet talker," she mumbled, pulling a cup of coffee out of the bag. "Got your wings, though," she decreed, after taking a deep sip. She rubbed at her throat. "I didn't realize how much I needed that."

"Let's get out of here," he urged.

She shook her head. "I can't, and you know it. This is my business. It's my responsibility to be here and find out about the damage. It's my job to call for estimates and to contact people who had reservations for the upcoming weeks. I need to be Mia's eyes and ears and let her know what's going on. You know if something like this had happened to the diner, you'd never leave before it was fixed."

She watched the stubborn look settle over his face. He pointed up at the discolored ceiling, where water still dripped in the corners. "This is not good, Lorelai. You can make these calls from anywhere. You don't need to risk yourself by being here."

"It's not a risk," she argued. "They've looked it over, and while they're not letting us upstairs or in the kitchen, we're OK down here."

"Right," he scoffed. "Come on. Let's go. Now," he ordered.

That's when it happened. His eyes fell on her beloved picture of Mia standing in front of the Inn. She'd always kept it on the wall across from her desk, so that she could see it every time she sat down. It had been knocked down during the fire and now it lay on her desk, the cracked glass streaked with dirt. A couple of paper towels and a bottle of Windex sat on top of it, mutely showing she'd already tried to save it. His eyes reached out to hers, full of pity.

She couldn't handle that. Not from _him_. Not today.

"Look," she said curtly, making sure her voice was hard enough to withstand his sympathy, "if this attitude from you is because of the kiss this morning, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it, and I know it. I know you're taken, and I was poaching. So I'm sorry, OK? I'm sorry! But just because I kissed you, it doesn't mean you get to tell me anything about how to run my life! This is still _my_ life, and I am the only one allowed to make decisions about it! You got that?"

"Oh, I got that!" he fumed, starting to stomp towards the door. He paused long enough to glare back at her. "Do you really think I didn't already know that?" he sneered. "Why do you think _I've_ never tried to kiss you?"

Then he was gone, but his words echoed through her, over and over again. She swallowed hard, swiveling back and forth in her chair. At least her chair still worked.

She reached out for the coffee cup with her shaky fingers and tried to take another gulp, but it choked her. She leaned her head down on the pile of paper towels, and for a few brief minutes she let tears chase the soot off of her cheeks.


	5. Nevermore

**_Take a deep breath. Here we go..._**

* * *

It had been an agonizingly long afternoon and evening. Luke was unbelievably thankful that it was Caesar's night to close. He stepped into his apartment and the silence hit him like a physical barrier. He felt like he had to push his way in, and once he was there he didn't even know why he'd made the effort.

He yanked the hat off of his head and dropped it on the table. Jeez, what a day. He shuffled over to the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator, looking inside it blankly. There wasn't anything in there he wanted. What he really wanted was to go back about three days and somehow change everything that had gone wrong. He wanted to fix whatever this was with Lorelai, but since he really didn't know _what_ was going on, he didn't know how to fix it. All he knew was that he was miserable and she was, too.

He slammed the refrigerator door shut and ambled through the small apartment, almost wishing that Jess was home so that he wouldn't be alone with his thoughts. He'd happily listen to the ear-splitting noise Jess called music. He'd put up with any of his smart-ass comments rather than listen to the abuse his own brain was heaping on him.

God, what a day.

He looked up and froze. He'd reached the bed. His bed, with the sheets still tangled from Lorelai's long legs, the pillows still showing the hollows from where she'd laid her head. And truthfully, he hadn't planned on changing the sheets before he went to bed tonight. His heart had beat a little bit faster all day, thinking about climbing into the bed where she'd slept the night before. Now that seemed really stupid. He sounded like some lovestruck teenager, wanting to fall asleep on Farah Fawcett sheets.

Disgusted, he marched to the kitchen. Once again he threw open the refrigerator door, but this time he grabbed out a beer. He twisted off the cap viciously and tilted it up to his mouth, taking a long swallow. He glared defiantly around the room, as though daring anyone to tell him not to do it.

He leaned against the countertop, staring out at the dark street below, his mind bouncing between the highs and lows of the last few days.

His head jerked when someone rapped sharply on his door. His heart soared ridiculously when he discerned a feminine silhouette, and then dropped in disappointment when he realized it was someone too short to be Lorelai.

He opened the door and Nicole stood there, her mouth turned down in disappointment. She studied him closely..

"You didn't remember, did you?" she asked, her accusatory voice mixed with sadness.

"Remember?" Luke stepped to the side, allowing her to enter.

"We had a date," she stated. "You were supposed to pick me up at 7."

Their telephone conversation from the night before echoed through his head. She'd made him laugh, Lorelai had said.

"Aw, man." He was floundering for what to say. "I'm sorry, Nicole."

She gave him another sharp look, then sat her gloves and purse down on the table. She started to unbutton her coat, still looking at him as if she expected more of a response than that.

"I—I told you," he started, rather desperately. "The Inn had a fire. It's been a crazy day."

"Why did that make any difference for you?" she asked, a brittle note in her voice.

"Well, they needed someplace to feed their guests, so they came here. Sookie used my kitchen." He noticed that he placed a heavy emphasis on 'Sookie.' "The whole town pitched in to help. Their guests slept all over town last night. It disrupted a lot of stuff today, too."

"I'm sure it did." Nicole said archly, throwing her coat over the chair. She turned to walk towards the couch, but stopped dead when she registered his unmade bed. Her head snapped around, staring at him, a speculative look on her face.

"Nicole," he started, already shaking his head, taking a step forward.

She took precise steps over to the bed. She snatched up a pillow and lifted it to her face, breathing in. Her shoulders sagged and she threw it back on the bed before looking off to the side of the room, swallowing hard.

"It's not what you think!" Luke said urgently.

"It's not?" She shook her head sadly.

"I did not sleep with her!"

Her head whipped around to regard him. "Oh, I know that! I know you wouldn't sleep with her!" Her face changed into harder lines; her mouth turned bitter. "I just wish to God you would!"

"What?" he asked, stunned.

"I wish you would! I wish you'd have her and get her out of your system! I wish you'd have slept with her years ago, and she'd already have broken your heart, and then you could get on with your life! Instead you just keep waiting!"

"Nicole…"

"It's true!" she wailed. "You're content to just keep waiting on her! It doesn't matter how good anything else could be, you don't care because it's not her! I wish you'd go sleep with her and be done with her!"

"I'm not waiting on her," he argued.

"Yes, you are," she said with calm conviction. "And do you know what's really sad? Even if you eventually settle for someone else, you're still going to be waiting for her." She moved back to the table and picked up her coat. "Well, it's not going to be me." She buttoned her coat back up. "I'm not going to be the one you settle for."

"You know nothing happened here!" he insisted, following her to the door.

"Luke." She pressed a hand to her forehead while gathering her words, and he felt guilty to see it was shaking. "You didn't make your bed. She spends a night in your bed and you can't even bring yourself to make it. There have been mornings when you've tried to make the bed with me still in it."

He was shaking his head. "Let's talk about this," he mumbled insincerely. Truthfully, he was ready for her to just leave.

She'd opened the door to the hallway and now she looked over her shoulder, down to where the stairs ended. She took a deep breath and turned to face him again. "OK, how about this? Did you think about me today, Luke? Was there even one time you thought about me?"

He clamped his lips shut and placed his hands on his hips, trying to decide how to answer. The honest answer would hurt her, and he didn't want to hurt her any more than necessary.

She laughed cynically, discerning the answer anyway from his face. "That's what I thought," she said softly. "How many times did you think about her? In fact, was there any time today you didn't think about her?"

She took his silence for his answer. "Goodbye, Luke," she sighed, turning to move to the stairs. "I wish you well, you know." She paused just a moment before taking the first step, shaking her head. "I just don't know what you're waiting for."

At the last moment he shook off his inertia and went to the banister, looking down at her as she descended. "Nicole. I'm sorry. I really am."

She looked up at him. "I know," she said. "I am too."

And then she was gone. Luke blinked a couple of times, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. He slowly moved back into his apartment and shut the door. He went back over to the kitchen, where he'd sat down his beer. Once again he peered out at the dark street, unable to stop comparing and contrasting the way two ex-girlfriends had now left his life.

* * *

Luke wasn't sure how much later it was when he heard the diner's phone faintly ringing from downstairs. He felt like he'd been frozen in place forever. He knew he'd heard Caesar leave shortly after Nicole did, but that could have been hours ago. His thoughts and perception of time were all jumbled up as he tried to make sense of today's events.

A few minutes later his own phone started to ring. He tried to ignore it but it kept ringing, and finally he turned and snatched up the receiver; anything to make the noise stop.

"What?" he snarled, angry at whoever was on the other end.

"Luke? Um, this is Rory. Rory Gilmore?"

In spite of everything, he smiled. The idea that Rory thought he might not know who she was made him smile.

"Yeah, Rory," he said, calmer now. "Sorry I yelled. If you're looking for Jess, he's not home yet."

"Yeah, I know. I mean, I'm not calling for Jess." He heard her take a big breath. "I was just wondering if Mom was there."

"Your mom?" His forehead crinkled as he tried to puzzle out why Rory would call him, looking for Lorelai. "Why would your mom be here?"

"Well, I know that sometimes she stops by and pesters you for the last of the coffee, and I just thought that maybe…" Her voice faltered. "I thought maybe that's where she was."

"No, she's not here." Luke felt apprehension start to coat his insides. "Are you saying that you don't know where she is?"

"No, I just don't…" Rory's voice faded out. He heard her sigh. "I don't know where she is," she admitted. "We were both so tired. We ate dinner, and I guess I fell asleep when I tried to do homework. I woke up a little while ago, and Mom's not here. The car's here, but she's not. I keep calling her phone, but it goes straight to voicemail. I just don't know where she went." Her voice had just a little shiver of fear in it that went straight to his heart.

"Have you called Sookie or Michel? Maybe she needed to see them about Inn stuff." He tried to sound reassuring.

"Yeah, I called Sookie. She hasn't seen her since early this afternoon. And Babette's house is all dark, so I don't think she's there. I just…I just don't know where she would have gone this late at night."

Luke stared down at the table, formulating a plan. "Listen, you sit tight, OK? I'm going to look around for her."

"Oh, Luke, I don't want you to have to do that," Rory said bravely. "I can drive around, too. I don't want to bother you."

"I don't want you out alone in the dark," he insisted. "Let me check Black & White & Read and K.C.'s, OK? Maybe she just felt like some company."

"Oh, that's a good idea." He could hear the relief in her voice.

'I'll check through town and then I'll stop by, OK?"

"OK," she agreed. "Thanks, Luke."

He grabbed his coat and gloves and literally ran into Jess at the door.

"Geez, where's the fire?" Jess complained, leaping back to avoid being run over by his uncle.

"Unfortunate choice of words," Luke snapped. He paused and looked Jess over. "Come on. You're coming with me."

"Where?" Jess asked.

"You're going to stay with Rory while I look for Lorelai." Luke was already heading down the stairs. "Move it!"

"Wait! What's going on?" Jess slammed the door shut and rushed to follow Luke down the stairs.

By the time Jess flung himself inside the cab of the truck, Luke already had the engine fired and was shoving it into gear.

"What's wrong?" Jess asked, trying to catch up.

"Right now, just look for Lorelai," Luke ordered. He drove slowly around the square, his eyes peeled for any movement. He turned and drove past K.C.'s, peering in through the front windows. He didn't bother with Black & White & Read, knowing that it was far past time for the last show to be over. He'd just mentioned that as a possibility to calm Rory.

He turned towards the lake, pulling the truck as far down the path as he safely could. He grabbed the flashlight from under the seat and sprang out from the vehicle.

"Stay here," he told Jess.

He sprinted down the path, swinging the beam of the flashlight from side to side. He ran the light over the bridge, making sure that no long legs were dangling over the side. His heart felt heavier as he made his way back to the truck.

"You've gotta tell me what's goin' on," Jess insisted after he'd climbed back in.

The truck lurched backwards down the trail, heading back to the street. Luke concentrated on his driving.

"Rory doesn't know where Lorelai is, and she's scared. I'm looking for her so that Rory doesn't have to. And you're going to stay with Rory so she's got somebody with her while she's worried about her mom."

Luke put the truck back in drive and floored it, heading towards the Gilmore's house.

Jess gave a dismissive snort. "So once again Sir Luke gets to demonstrate what a patsy he is, huh? Think she'll notice this time?"

Luke's patience blew through the top of his head. He pulled the truck over to the side of the road, stomping on the brake so hard that Jess had to brace himself against the glove box.

"I've had enough of your disrespect when it comes to Lorelai!" he thundered. "Do you even realize what's happened to her in the last few days? She's lost her business! Can you understand how scary that is? And not only is she looking at losing her income, she's looking at a bunch of her friends losing theirs, too! And that place meant the world to her! So cut her some slack!"

"OK! Jeez!" Jess muttered, staring straight out the windshield.

"I don't get you," Luke continued. "She's your girlfriend's mom. You're intelligent enough to know that being on her good side will only help you! What did she ever do to you that got you so negative on her?"

Jess continued his study of the darkened road directly in front of them. His jaw tensed in a good imitation of his uncle's.

"I don't like the way she treats you," he finally allowed.

That brought Luke up short. "She treats me fine," he said quietly.

Jess jerked his head in disgust. "That's what I'm talking about. You don't even see it."

"I…" Luke shook his head, running his hands over the steering wheel. "You don't know anything," he muttered. "But right now we need to find her." He pulled the truck back onto the street and stepped heavily on the gas. "You are going to stay with Rory and reassure her. And if you try anything stupid with her, I'll knock you into next week. Got it?"

"Got it." Jess rolled his eyes. "Like she'd let me anyway," he added, under his breath.

Luke pulled to a stop in front of the house and dashed for the steps, Jess right behind him.

Apparently Rory had been watching out the window because she threw open the door before they got there.

"Oh!" Her eyes went wide at the sight of Jess, but it was Luke's arm that she grabbed, leaning her forehead against his shoulder gratefully. "Thank you so much for doing this, Luke. I know there's probably some really logical reason that Mom went somewhere, but I can't figure out what it is, and she was just so _sad_ tonight…" Her voice faded out and she gave a little shrug, trying to smile. "I just…I don't know why she's not answering her phone."

"Don't worry," Luke told her, putting as much authority into his voice as he could. "I'm sure you're right, that wherever she is, it makes perfect sense to her. She probably doesn't even know how late it is. I'll find her, OK? I'll bring her back home. I promise."

Jess had stepped over the doorway and now stood slightly behind Rory, putting his hands lightly on her shoulders. He looked straight at Luke, and for once his face didn't register some sort of cocky unconcern. He looked uneasy, and that chilled Luke more than anything.

"Go," Jess told him, his face serious. "I'll take care of Rory."

Luke nodded and started back down the steps. "I'll drive around and check anyplace I think she might be. I'll be back in half an hour to see if she's made it home by then."

"Half an hour. OK," Rory repeated, nodding her head too.

Luke started the truck towards Sookie's. He thought he'd trace paths from Lorelai's house to any possible destination. He drove slowly, looking for anything that seemed unusual, although in Stars Hollow it was hard to say just what unusual was.

His head buzzed with all of the conversations they'd had over the last few days. He chewed his bottom lip with worry. He knew Lorelai very well, and he knew she'd never purposely do anything that would cause herself harm because of Rory. But because he knew her so well, he also knew she'd do something impulsive and potentially dangerous without even realizing it. She'd be the type of kindhearted person to offer to help a stranger along the side of the road. She'd be the type to take a shortcut down an alley in the dark. She'd be the type to be so caught up in her head that she wouldn't see the oncoming car until it was too late.

He strained his eyes harder, desperate to see her somewhere. He prayed she didn't have on that dark sweater she was wearing earlier, or that brown leather coat from the other night. He'd never spot her in the dark if that's what she had on.

After another ten minutes of futile searching, he pulled over to reconsider. He rubbed at his face, trying to think like her. Where would she go?

He slapped his forehead as it hit him._ Of course._ Of course she'd go there.

He headed towards the Independence Inn, his heart beating faster because he knew he was right. He knew he was on the right track. He knew it.

He parked in front of the yellow police tape. He ducked under it and practically ran for the front entry. He caught his breath as he jiggled the doorknob.

_Locked._ He looked around, trying to piece together where she could be. She had to be here, dammit! She had to!

He took several steps back, looking up at the building. He let the flashlight play over the shrubs lining the drive. Anxiously he moved towards the edge of the building, his head frantically scanning from side to side. He paused, and a slight breeze blew past him. It cleared the noxious smoke smell for a moment and he sniffed. He swore he could smell sugar cookies.

Suddenly, he knew. He jogged down the little path past the duck pond and up the hill towards the potting shed.

His heart nearly gave out in relief. There she was in the moonlight, sitting on the small granite step leading to the door of the shed. He walked the rest of the way slowly, watching as she raised a tall bottle to her lips.

She didn't seem surprised to see him. She moved over so that he could collapse beside her.

"Rory's been trying to call you," he said, when he'd caught his breath.

She frowned and pulled her phone out of her pocket. "Damn!" she hissed, looking at the display. "I musta hit the mute button when I crawled through the window."

"What window?" he demanded, but she was already calling Rory.

"Hey Kid!" she said gaily. She frowned, looking guilty. He could hear Rory's anxious voice coming through the phone. "I'm fine," Lorelai insisted, when Rory paused. "I'm sorry I scared you. I just needed to check on something at the Inn." She listened again. "He's here now. I'm fine. I'm really fine. I didn't know I muted the ringer. I'll be home soon, OK?"

"Tell Jess to go home!" Luke yelled at the phone.

"You hear that?" Lorelai asked. She laughed at whatever Rory said. "OK, Sweets. I'll see you soon."

She pocketed the phone and offered Luke the bottle of Merlot as if she didn't have a care in the world. "Want some?"

His look of sheer disbelief turned into a glare of disdain.

"Yeah, it wasn't my first choice either," she agreed, hoisting the bottle up for another sip. She delicately used her thumb to wipe under her bottom lip. "It was really dark in there though, so I just grabbed the first thing I could find." Her eyes fell on the flashlight. "Hey! This is great! We can climb back in with your flashlight and find the good stuff! Let's go!" She grabbed onto the door frame and started to pull herself upright.

He pulled her back down. "Do you really think there's any way I'm letting you crawl back inside a fire-damaged building to score some booze?"

Her eyes flicked over him. "No," she grumbled. "I guess we're stuck with this."

"You really think this is what you should be doing right now?"

"Yes!" she immediately snapped. She pulled her head back then, taking a deep breath, obviously trying to latch onto some composure. "I've had a really crappy day. You should know that. You were there for most of it."

"I know," he said quietly.

She stared out to where the duck pond shimmered in the moonlight. "It started with me humiliating myself with a really good friend before I was even awake. Then I spent most of the day here, where I found out first hand what a despicable person I am. Here were all of these people; people I've known and cared about for years and years, and I'm watching the realization hit them that they're probably out of a job for months. And is that what I'm concerned about? Am I worried about them? No! You wanna know what I'm thinking about?" Her head whipped around to Luke and her voice dropped down into a gruff whisper. "All I can think about is how it's affecting _me_. This place is my home, more than my parents' house ever was! In some ways, more than the Crap Shack is now! Mia trusted me with it and I let it burn down!"

"It didn't burn down," Luke corrected her at once. "And whatever started the fire, it wasn't your fault."

"Semantics," she sighed. "Happened on my watch. My fault."

"You know Mia's not blaming you," he attempted, trying to be soothing.

She shrugged. "I shoulda been on top of it. I shoulda had more inspections done."

"You can't blame yourself for this."

"OK. I'll just blame myself for being an unfeeling jerk. And how about the mess I've made for you and me? Can I take the blame for that?"

Luke shifted uncomfortably on the cold granite. "Let's just forget that even happened."

He could feel her clear gaze on the side of his face before she moved her focus back to the pond. "This morning or this afternoon?" she questioned.

Suddenly he could feel her pressed up against him again. Felt her lips enticing him to join her. "Both," he muttered.

Her shoulders hunched. "Sure," she agreed, sounding desolate. "Let's forget it."

The breeze picked up and whipped over them again and Luke saw her shivering. He stood up and offered his hand. "Come on. Let's get you home."

She took his hand but released it as soon as she was upright, even though she needed to lean back against the door to catch her balance. She closed her eyes, almost smiling as she let her head rest there. "This place was my sanctuary," she said softly.

"How long did you live here?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.

"Almost ten years." She patted the door fondly, smiling. "My aunt had started an annuity for me when I was born, and when it matured, my parents had to turn it over to me. The proceeds, plus the little I'd saved, was enough for the down payment on the house. I knew it was time. I knew Rory needed a real place to live. But, God, I hated to leave here."

"I know how you feel," Luke admitted, thinking of his own unorthodox living space.

She turned to him with a real smile. "Have you ever seen it?"

He shook his head. "We used to play back here when we were kids. You know, hide'n'seek and stuff. But the shed was always locked. They didn't want us around the fertilizer and the tools and everything."

"You wanna come in?" She was already feeling behind one of the shutters and in a moment she had the key.

"Sure," he agreed, because he could tell how important this was to her.

She unlocked the door quickly. "Flashlight," she ordered when the door swung open. She walked inside with confidence, shining the beam at a lower cabinet. She handed the light back to Luke, then knelt down and pulled out a kerosene lamp and a box of matches. She placed the lamp on the table and pulled off the glass chimney, turning up the wick and lighting it. The flame shot up and she turned it down to a more manageable level before replacing the chimney.

In the center of the room they were bathed with the warm golden glow from the lamp, but the rest of the room flickered with shadows. Luke turned off the flashlight and looked around the small space.

"Hard to believe you and Rory fit in here," he commented.

She was turning around happily. "This place was my castle," she revealed. "I haven't been back out since the charming Rune resided here, but it doesn't look like he ruined it."

"How could you tell?" Luke observed, and then ducked when she tried to playfully smack him.

"Watch it, buddy," she threatened. She stepped to the door, stooping to collect the wine bottle before closing it against the early spring breeze. "I'll rescind your pass to the kingdom."

"So this was your home," he said, looking around.

"My home, my life, my everything," she agreed. "Did you know Mia almost didn't let me stay?"

Luke shook his head and leaned back against the table with his arms folded, waiting for her to continue.

"Poor lady. Here she was confronted with this smart-mouthed kid and a baby. A runaway. I think she thought she'd give us a safe place to crash for a couple of days until I decided to go home again. But this was my chance. There was no way I was going back to Hartford. So I did everything I could to convince her to give me a job. I picked up trash. I cleaned. I made beds. Finally she pulled me into her office and told me that the maids were all complaining about me. Said I made them look bad. I'll never forget the way she looked at me. Like she could see something inside me that nobody else could. Then she agreed to give me a job. Said we'd work out something with Rory. She let us stay in one of the rooms for awhile, but we couldn't keep doing that, obviously. So she had Chuck and Javier come out here and fix this place up for us. Our own little gingerbread cottage."

Luke looked around again, wondering how in the world she'd made it work. He started to retroactively worry about them.

Apparently she knew him too well. "This was heaven, Luke. Really. You have no idea what a relief this was for me. I could live here and raise my daughter the way I wanted. This place was better'n Disney World."

He smiled. "It does look cozy."

She smiled back. "You're just lucky you never had to deal with a big-eyed five-year-old Rory Gilmore. Every day I'd come back here and find evidence of her expert manipulation of the staff. Fresh containers of cookies on the counter. New flowers planted in the windowbox. You name it; she'd charm somebody out of it."

Luke lifted his eyebrows at her in challenge. "Huh. Wonder where she learned that."

Lorelai laughed. "See? She's got you snowed, too." She stepped over to the wall and rubbed her hand tenderly over the little rosebud print. "This is a good example. Mia'd hired Betty Logan to hang new wallpaper in all of the guestrooms, and Rory'd fallen in love with this one. Everyday she'd sit on the floor, watching Betty. Saturday comes around, and here's Betty knocking on our door. Lo and behold, there's an extra roll of paper. 'Here, Lorelai,' she says, 'I'll give you a wallpapering lesson.'" Lorelai chuckled, remembering. "Rory's always known her power."

Lorelai walked around the small structure, fondly running her hand over certain items, pausing occasionally to take a swig from the wine bottle.

Luke quietly let her have her time to reminisce. He folded his arms and looked around, taking in the homey details. Something scribbled on the wall on the far side of the bed caught his eye.

"What's the story with this?"

She quickly turned around to see what he was talking about. She laughed again and clambered up on the bed, leaning forward to trace over the crayon drawing. She turned around and sat cross-legged on the bed, smiling. She tucked the wine bottle between her legs.

"Rory was six years old, too old to be drawing on the walls. And she'd never, ever done a destructive thing in her life. But I come home one afternoon to find her drawing this on the wall. I lost my temper and yelled at her. I couldn't believe she'd do such a thing, especially considering how much she loved this wallpaper." Lorelai shook her head, her thoughts obviously far away.

"I'm guessing she had a reason," Luke said, attempting to draw her back to the present.

"Oh, yeah." She tried to laugh, but it came out more like a sigh. Her one hand clutched at the bottle as the other one smoothed over the chenille bedspread. "We shared everything here, you know? This was our bed. It was like a pajama party every night. I tried to give her the childhood I never had. And I tried really hard to never let her know whenever things weren't going so good. But we shared everything." Her eyes caught Luke's. "We were really tuned in to each other, and no matter how much I tried to shield her from my worries, I guess she could pick up on them." She sighed again.

"So she drew you a picture?" Luke asked, still seeking the end of the story.

"She was in school. She'd been invited to a sleepover birthday party. She said she knew how I was sad sometimes, and she was worried that I'd be sad and she wouldn't be here to cheer me up. So she drew me the picture, right beside where I slept, so I'd see it first thing in the morning when I woke up. So I'd know she loved me and that everything would be OK." Lorelai shook her head and rubbed her free hand across her face. "So much for giving my kid a carefree childhood."

His heart contracted a little, registering her guilt. "I think kids picking up on their parents' worries is pretty universal. I remember hearing my folks talk about some money problems one time. I got the few dollars I'd saved up and put it in my Dad's wallet." Luke grinned at her. "I got in trouble for breaking my piggy bank."

She chuckled at that. "No good deed, huh?" She winked at him conspiratorially before raising the bottle to her lips again.

Something about the cozy atmosphere of the space made him want to share confidences with her, too. He cleared his throat and dove in.

"Nicole and I broke up tonight."

"You broke up with her?" she asked with some interest, putting aside the wine bottle.

"No," he had to admit. "She dumped me."

"Oh," she said, considering, then gave a bitter laugh. "Of course she did." She pulled the bottle back towards her.

"That's it?" he asked, pretending to be shocked. "You don't have anything to say about that? You don't have an opinion? You don't want to know all of the juicy details?"

"Sure," she said, sounding a little slurred. "Go ahead. Fill me in."

Some sort of inner wall seemed to be caving in. Things that he'd kept bottled up for so long needed to come out. "She left me for the same reason Rachel did."

"Rachel?" That got her attention, and the bottle stayed where it was. "What's Rachel got to do with it?"

"They both seem to think that I'm in love with you." He stared at her, waiting to see her reaction.

Her eyes and mouth all went round in shock. Then she started to laugh hysterically, bending herself at the waist as she pointed at him. He stood defiantly and glared at her, and at last she got herself under control.

"I'm sorry," she choked out, trying not to laugh anymore, "I'm not laughing at you, you know! It's just―it's so silly! To think that you'd be in love with me!"

He didn't say anything. He turned partially away from her, his jaw working to keep himself in check.

"Well, isn't it silly?" she demanded. "Why would they think that?"

"I guess it is silly. It's ridiculous, when you think about it. You'd never let me get close enough to be in love with you!"

Her jaw jutted up and her breathing grew ragged. "You think you're not close to me?"

"I know I'm not close to you. You won't let me get too close in your life. You keep me locked away someplace where I'm available if you need coffee or a shoulder to cry on, but you make sure that I'm not too close. You don't want me to actually matter."

She absorbed that. "Let's have a demonstration. I love visual aids, don't you?" She put up the index finger on her right hand. "Let's say that this is me." She waggled the finger at him. "And let's say this is Christopher." She crooked the index finger on her left hand. "So this is me, and this is him." She moved 'Christopher' about eight inches away, frowned, then increased the distance another few inches. "This is how close Christopher is to my life," she informed Luke.

"Now let's see Max." She looked over at him. "You remember Max, right? I was gonna marry him."

"I remember," Luke muttered.

She nodded. She raised her right finger again. "This is me. And this is Max." This time she moved her left hand as far away as she could. "I thought I loved him, you know? But this is all the closer I let him get to my life."

She glanced at Luke and then continued. "Hey, let's see Alex, shall we? Alex, the guy I didn't even remember until you brought him up last night? Here's Alex," she said, holding up her finger and then pointing out the door. "He's so far away, he's on the other side of the duck pond."

She took a shaky breath. "How about you? Do you want to see you?" She put up her finger. "Here's me, Luke." She raised the other one. "And here's you." She brought that finger up close against the one on her right hand. "You're so close to me that most of the time I think I can feel you breathing." Her voice had turned low and serious.

He swallowed hard. He wanted to believe her so badly, but he knew he didn't dare. "Don't mess with me, Lorelai," he warned her in a growl.

"I'm not!" she wailed. "God, I'm so tired of it always being like this! I'm so tired of everyone always being on your side!"

"What are you talking about?"

She slid off the bed, putting the wine bottle on the table. "It's always the same thing. 'Oh, poor Luke, he's so into Lorelai and she won't give him the time of day.'" Her voice had turned mocking. She advanced slowly, pulling off the bulky long sweater she'd been wearing as a coat. "No one ever says, 'Oh, poor Lorelai, she's so hung up on Luke and he won't ever take her seriously.'"

"You're drunk," he pointed out, taking a step back.

"And so what if I am?" she shouted. "Do you think that makes what I'm saying any less true?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I think," he snapped.

"Wrong! It just makes the words easier to say!" She pulled the zipper down on her lavender cardigan savagely, tugging it off her arms as she kept advancing on him.

"Don't," he warned, taking another step backwards in the miniscule kitchen and crashing against the sink behind him.

"I kissed you this morning, Luke. I _kissed_ you!" She was right in front of him now, her hands clutching at his shoulders and arms, pulling off his coat. "And you were…You were…frozen!" Her voice was harsh and her face was pained. "I just don't know what it takes! What will it take to get you to want me back?" Her voice had softened with yearning by the last word, and she gave an involuntary gasp when she reached for him.

"Lorelai, I'm warning you," he choked out desperately, "you start this, and I'm not going to be the one stopping it!"

She paused for just a moment, cocking her head as she considered his words. "Why in the world would I want you to stop this?" she mused, mystified, right before she pulled his face down to hers.

He'd been thinking of her kiss all day. All day part of his brain had done nothing but remember. Her lips, her mouth, her skin, her warmth, her arms, her scent, her heart beating against his chest. And now he finally had the chance to find out what came next.

He moved to meet her lips and she was there, waiting on him. Her arms wrapped around his waist and he put his hands firmly on the back of her head, holding her in place, scared that she'd pull away before he finally had the chance to get his fill of her.

He kissed her lips over and over and over, starting softly and tentatively, but becoming progressively more demanding. Her mouth parted willingly and she drew his tongue into hers. He could taste the acidic tang of the wine and somewhere he heard a faint reminder that she'd been drinking, but by then he just didn't care.

Her hands were sliding up and down his back, pressing him ever closer to her and he shifted slightly, wanting to feel more of her against him. His hands claimed her back, too, and suddenly he recalled in desire-drenched clarity the exact feel of that silky strip of skin low on her back. He wanted to feel that skin again more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

His hands yanked her blouse out of the waistband of her pants and dove under the loosened fabric. The feel of her bare skin under his hand nearly short-circuited his brain completely, but it wasn't quite right. The exact piece of skin he desired was still out of his reach.

He pulled his hand around to her front and pushed it between them, finding the button on her pants and popping it open. She broke the kiss, sucking in a breath of air in shock. He felt the cold air as it hissed over his flushed face on the way to her mouth. His fingers brushed against the tab of her zipper and he lowered it a few inches for good measure, his hand then eagerly returning to her back. He claimed the skin he so desperately wanted, rubbing his splayed hand completely over the small of her back.

She made a deep purring sound of pure need and pulled his shirts loose, too. Her hands instantly connected to his skin there, touching as much of him as she could.

He stood still for a moment, savoring the feel of her touching him. He bent down, eagerly linking to her lips again.

She took a few steps backwards and he went along, since her arms were wrapped so securely around him. She dropped to the bed and he landed on her in a most satisfactory way. He rubbed against her several more times, groaning to convey just how satisfactory the bond was.

There was a little skin-on-skin contact, from where their shirts were riding up, but it wasn't enough. He went back to the continuous kissing while one hand worked on unbuttoning her shirt. She moaned underneath his mouth, arching her back as he touched her. He looked as he pushed the material apart, drawing in a deep breath as the flickering lantern light made her skin glow and the satin sheen of her white bra turn golden, her hardened nipples casting a shadow in the very center of each cup. He held his breath as he touched her, the juxtaposition of her smooth skin and the silky material nearly making him crazy.

She was fumbling at his belt buckle, and when she hissed out a frustrated "Damn this thing!" he raised himself up on one arm and did it himself, chuckling breathlessly. As soon as it was open she plunged her hand in, and he caught her look of pure satisfaction before his eyes rolled back in his head. Somewhere he heard words; words warning him that this was moving too, too fast, but underneath him Lorelai Gilmore was touching him and panting, and he had no use whatsoever for warnings.

"Stop," she ordered, when he moved to lay over her again. He shot her a look of confusion and she slowly devoured him with greedy eyes. "I just like lookin' at you," she purred, her hands continuing their explorations, tugging at the edge of his endurance. "Mmmm, one more thing," she said huskily. She pushed him a little bit more upright, trying to pull his shirts over his head while he hovered over her.

Once again he thought he'd be the gentleman and help her out, by pulling off his own shirts. But when his head emerged from underneath the flannel and the cotton tee, his gaze was directly on the crayon drawing on the wall next to Lorelai's beautifully aroused face.

Rory had drawn Lorelai with brown corkscrew curls all over her head while she'd given herself a straight brown bob. She used a bright red crayon to give both of them wide smiles. Their arms were filled with multitudes of colorful flowers.

"I love you, Mommy!" she'd written underneath, in sparkly purple. Beside it Lorelai had written the date and their names, obviously to commemorate the event.

He hadn't even realized he pushed himself off the bed until Lorelai reached for him, calling out his name in concern. He blinked and tried to focus on her, his chest heaving.

"What's wrong?" She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing against him. "Luke, tell me! What's wrong?"

"This. This is wrong," he gasped out, still trying to draw a deep breath. "Nothing about this is right." He fastened himself back up and reached over her for his shirts. "Get dressed," he ordered.

"No! Luke! I don't understand!" Her face was contorted with hurt and confusion. "Tell me what's going on," she begged.

"Get dressed," he said again, trying to say the words as coldly as possible, hoping that something would cool down the blood racing inside of him. "I promised Rory I'd bring you home, and that's what I'm going to do." He started to put his coat back on and then he reached for the flashlight, heading for the door. "I'll wait for you outside," he added, trying not to look at her devastated face.

* * *

She sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the reverberations from the door slam she'd expected that morning. Her hands automatically moved over the soothing forest of little chenilles on the mussed bedspread. Her head swam while she tried to catch her breath and figure out what had taken Luke away from her.

All indications seemed to show that he had enjoyed their beginning lovemaking as much as she had. Hadn't he even said that he wouldn't be the one to stop them? But he had. He'd pulled away from her in absolute revulsion.

She hung her head, biting her lips in complete sorrow. How had she screwed up this time? How had she managed to ruin things even more?

And now the truth lay before her, more than ever before. He truly didn't want her.

With trembling hands she tried to button her shirt back up, but either she'd forgotten how buttons worked or some of them were missing. She pulled on her sweaters, not bothering to pull down the sleeves or fasten them. She blew out the lantern and hurried to the door.

He averted his eyes as soon as she stepped outside. He waited while she put the key back behind the shutter, but then she had to practically run to keep up with his long strides as he rushed to his truck.

"Luke, wait," she beseeched him, more than once, but he was on a mission to reach the truck and didn't pause.

She pulled open the door and climbed inside, once more panting as hard as she'd been just minutes earlier, when he was poised above her. Back when she was happy. Back when she thought she was getting everything she wanted.

She braced herself against the dashboard and twisted her body, trying to see his face. He never looked at her while he backed the truck down the drive and took off towards town.

"Really? We're not going to talk about this?"

He set his mouth and stared down the road.

"Seriously." She was feeling the heat of anger start to burn off some of the humiliation. "We're seriously not going to discuss what just happened at all?"

He continued to ignore her. The truck picked up speed.

She looked down the road for a moment, too, gathering her scrambled thoughts. She turned to him again.

"So that's it, huh?" She laughed, very bitterly. "I fuck up, and that's it? We're just done? There's no talking, no apology, no nothing? I mean, I know this isn't my first fuck up, but it's surely my most spectacular one. And that's it? There's no second chance? No way to redeem myself?"

He glanced over at her then, and she could see by the way his eyes tracked that he saw she didn't have on her seatbelt. She could tell by the way he opened his mouth that he really wanted to tell her to put it on. But for once his desire to be free of her apparently outweighed his need for safety and he continued on through the center of town. The wheels squealed when he made the desperate turn onto her street.

They plowed to a stop in her parking area and she looked nervously towards her house, wetting her lips as she tried to formulate something more apologetic to say.

He turned to her then, breathing hard. He refused to look at her directly. "I know you're self-centered," he said, his voice so low she had to strain to hear him over her still-pounding heart. "But this is one time when it isn't about you. This isn't your fuck up. It's mine." He grasped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. "Go in the house. Please."

"No," she said, shaking her head hard. "Luke, we've got to talk about this! I'm not leaving this truck until you tell me what happened back there!"

"We're never talking about what happened back there," he muttered darkly. He shut his eyes and leaned his forehead down on the steering wheel between his clenched hands. "Please, Lorelai. Just go."

"No!" Words were cascading through her mind and she tried to latch onto some of them that would fix this. "You wanted me back there! You wanted to make love to me, I know you did! Just tell me what I did wrong, so I can make this right again! Just tell me!" she cried, her heart breaking.

He looked at her straight on for a split second, and in that instant she could see that he was in every bit as much pain as she was. For a brief moment she had hope.

He shook his head sadly and then forcefully opened his door. He marched around the truck, pulling open her door. He latched his arm around her waist and tried to pull her out.

She clung to the dashboard, to the seat, to the frame of the windshield as he extricated her from the vehicle. "Don't do this, Luke," she pleaded with him, her voice growing more and more frantic. "Please talk to me!"

Her strength was no match for his and soon she felt the ground under her feet as he gently placed her there. He turned her towards the house.

"I promised Rory I'd bring you home. You're home." His voice was raw and hurt. "Now, go," he begged.

"Luke!" She watched in disbelief as he got back in the truck. "Luke, please!" she screamed, for once not caring about Babette living next door.

She sank down on her knees in the damp grass as he drove out of her life, not once looking back.

* * *

_**Remember...dark, hurt, confused...don't be too disappointed at either of them, OK?** _


	6. Forever More

**Notes:** Dedicated to the Spectacular Jewels, who batted her eyes at me yesterday as encouragement to post this. Maybe I should have let her write this last chapter so it wouldn't have turned out quite so sweet and schmoopy! Anyway, hope you all enjoy!

* * *

While Luke sleepwalked through the second hour of breakfast service, he figured it out.

He was in hell.

That certainly seemed to be the most logical explanation. Somewhere along the line he'd died but just hadn't noticed it. Maybe on the night he'd heard the sirens. Instead of the Inn having a fire, maybe he'd been in an accident and died, and the sirens had been for him. He'd died and gone to hell, probably for telling Taylor one too many times to go there himself. That made more sense than what had actually happened.

That Poe guy had nothing on him. He was trapped in a hell of his own making. A hell of a hell. The anguish and shame and heartache harbored within him were burning him alive. At random intervals he heard Lorelai's voice again, begging him to talk to her. Every time her voice echoed in his head it felt like someone punched him in the stomach. And then he either dropped something or tripped over his own feet.

Sloshed coffee was starting to form a river on the counter.

The true hell of it was that although the utter shame of what he did was burning him alive, the words he desperately wanted to say to her were locked so deeply away he couldn't make them come out.

The irony of their situation made him rub his forehead in despair. He couldn't talk and she couldn't shut up. They were obviously made for each other.

He knew he was in even worse shape than he thought when he realized he was standing in the middle of the bustling diner, laughing to himself like a crazy person. He felt the troubled eyes of the town on him as they tried to ascertain whether or not he'd had a complete mental breakdown. Abruptly he turned and ran for the sanctuary of the kitchen.

_Sanctuary. Lorelai. Leaning against the door in the moonlight..._

"This place was my sanctuary," he heard her say again, the words kicking him savagely in the gut.

_Hell_, he thought, burying his face in his hands, trying hard to block the image. _This must be hell._

* * *

The minutes of the day continued to crawl past, and at last he found his voice. No, not to go apologize to Lorelai. But to everyone else he couldn't shut up. He pestered every customer who came through the door.

"Did you hear about the fire? At the Inn? Have you heard anything else? Have you been by there? Oh really? Your nephew, huh? What'd he say? Have you seen Lorelai? Is she OK?"

He couldn't stop the babbling. He was desperate to hear any news. He couldn't stand not knowing how she was. Maybe the next person who came in the diner would know.

Finally Miss Patty reached over as he was interrogating one of the high school science teachers, Leo Farnsworth, who lived a street over from Lorelai. She gently tugged on his sleeve, drawing his focus.

"Excuse me, Leo," she said, smiling at the bombarded teacher. "I just need to have a word with Luke."

Luke looked at her, exasperated. He already knew she didn't have any news for him.

"Sweetheart," she said quietly, patting his hand. "Why don't you just go over to Lorelai's and see her? I'm sure she'd be happy to have the company."

He choked. "Can't," he said hoarsely, and went back to hide in the kitchen.

* * *

Jess came through the door around six and instantly confronted him. Jess shooed Luke towards the privacy of the back hallway, huffing in irritation.

"Man, what'd you do to her?" he hissed at Luke, as soon as they were away from listening ears. Luke's arms hugged his chest. His mouth tightened into a straight line of anguish, looking down at the floor in shame.

Shocked, Jess drew in a breath. "Aw, man! You really did do something, didn't you? You're not yellin' and tellin' me I'm crazy. You're not even pretending you don't know what I'm talkin' about! What the hell did you do?"

He shook his head, not looking at Jess. "Can't," he muttered painfully.

Jess' eyes drilled into him. "Lorelai's like a zombie. Rory's crazy-worried. Whatever you did, you need to fix it! Like now! You hear me?" He leaned in closer to Luke, trying his best to be intimidating.

Luke rubbed at his tired face, suddenly extremely worried that he was actually going to cry in front of his smart-aleck nephew.

"Geez, Luke." Jess looked away, uncomfortable with seeing his uncle so close to the edge. "Lorelai's hurt. Whatever happened, she's really hurt. You're going to take care of it, right? You're not going to let this go on, right?"

Luke cleared his throat, looking away. "I'll try," he managed to force out.

Jess seemed to accept that. "OK, then," he conceded, and headed upstairs to their apartment. He slowed about halfway up, then stopped completely at the top. He looked back down at Luke. "Are _you_ OK?" he asked gruffly, trying not to show how really concerned he was.

"I'm in hell," Luke explained to him, resigned to the fact, before walking back into the diner.

* * *

Hours later Luke awoke, rescuing himself from the depths of a nightmare. He managed to stifle the yell that wanted to burst from his throat and instead laid there, feeling his heart race while he panted for breath and tried to reassure himself that it was a dream. Only a dream.

After a few minutes he was calm enough to look at the clock. 2:30. He didn't know what surprised him more: that he'd fallen asleep at all, or that he'd dreamed.

The night before when he'd stumbled into the apartment after destroying any chance he'd ever had with Lorelai, he'd flung himself down on the couch, knowing there was no way he could stand to be in his bed. He'd tossed and turned there all night. Tonight, though, he knew he had to try the bed, since Jess was observing him closely. He'd stripped off the sheets the way you might yank off a Band-Aid, quickly and all at once, not prolonging the pain. Even after putting fresh sheets and pillowcases on he swore that he could still smell sugar cookies. He hadn't even tried to get under the covers, but laid on top in his sweatpants and thermal top, his arm shielding his eyes from the memories now permanently stuck in the room.

But apparently tiredness had a limit, and eventually he'd fallen asleep, only to be awakened by the most vivid nightmare he could ever recall.

In his dream he was down in the diner. He walked around the tables in the darkened space and saw flickering orange lights of flames behind the counter. He started to run, panicking when he couldn't find the fire extinguisher. He raced around the counter and stopped dead when he saw Rory kneeling there, drawing a picture with crayons over the spot where his father had once written down an order. She was drawing him, surrounded by flames. Every lick of orange or red or yellow she added to the picture made the fire surge higher around the counter.

_Rory_, he'd screamed at her, his throat aching from the effort. _We've got to get out of here!_

She'd turned to him then, her mouth twisted in a bitter smile. She pointed at him, and suddenly the flames were all around him. He could feel the heat on his shins. Despair flooded over him when he realized he was trapped.

Rory stood up and nodded, satisfied at her artistic attempt. _Bye, Luke_, she said casually, and left him there to burn.

That's when he woke up, trading dream hell for awake hell.

He tried to find a comfortable spot. He tried to regulate his still-erratic breathing and calm down enough to drift off again. He could tell, though, by the adrenaline racing through his body, that there'd be no more sleep tonight.

He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to think what his next move should be. More than anything he wished he could just get out of Stars Hollow. He wished he could jump in the truck and leave this crazy town. He wished he could leave this mess and his heartache and her and never look back. But there was Jess, and the diner, and the people who depended on him for their jobs. And her.

Always...her.

He rubbed his head, frustrated and tired and heartsick. The longing to leave the diner kept coming back to him, and suddenly he thought of running. Not running away; just running. Being outside in the cold, crisp air. Giving his body something to do. Clearing his mind.

It was the first actual plan he'd come up with, and he decided to go with it. As quietly as possible he found his running shoes and some socks. He grabbed a zippered sweatshirt and stealthily left the apartment. He sat on the steps and put on the socks and shoes, shoving his arms into the jacket's sleeves as he went down the stairs.

He paused right before he unlocked the door, leaning his forehead against the frame. It was dark, but there was some moonlight, and he knew the town as well as he knew the layout of the diner's storeroom. He knew he could find his way. In his mind he tried to plan a route through the streets. He wasn't surprised that his mind mapped out the way to Lorelai's.

He decided that wouldn't be his worst course of action. He'd run for a while, and if he ended up on her front porch, that might be for the best. He could sit there and wait to see her in the morning. Maybe the run would clear his head enough that he could come up with a decent apology. Maybe by then his voice would work.

The decision to do something made him feel so much lighter. Suddenly hopeful, he opened the door and stepped out...

…and nearly broke his neck tripping over Lorelai, who was huddled into a comforter on his top step. He grabbed hold of the pink knitted cap on her head to catch himself.

"Ow!" she complained.

"Sorry!" he said automatically. That one word opened his throat. His hand caressed the top of her head; slid down her cheek; kneaded her shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice raw with grief. He sank to his knees on the step beside her. His arms wrapped around her and he drew her close, breathing in her warm sugar cookie smell, once again feeling alive and whole. "I'm so sorry, Lorelai. I'm so, so sorry." He rocked her back and forth in his arms.

Relief flooded through him when he felt her nod her head against him.

He shifted his weight back on his heels and then sat down next to her. "What are you doing here?" he asked, suddenly terrified that her presence could also be nothing but a dream.

She shared her comforter, spreading it over his legs. "Two of the biggest things in my life caught fire and burned down around me this week," she said, a quaver in her voice. "The Independence―that's ruined. That's out of my hands. But you―" She shook her head vehemently. "I'll be damned if I'm going to lose you too. When last summer was over―when you'd finally forgiven me and agreed to talk to me again―I realized this is what I should've done. I've should've camped on your doorstep and made you deal with me instead of writing you letters and giving you space. So here I am. I'm not going away. I'll be here every night until we're back to normal." He could feel how tense she was; he could hear the determination in her voice.

"There's no need to do that," he attempted to assure her.

"I…misjudged…the circumstances. I'm willing to admit that. But I promise I won't do it again," she rushed on, her hands nervously bunching the quilted fabric on her lap. "I can be good, I promise. I can―"

He pressed a finger gently against her lips, and she shuddered as she drew in a breath. "Shh," he advised. "You misjudged _nothing._ You were absolutely right. I wanted you. I wanted you so much it made me crazy. I wanted you so much that it turned me into somebody else. Somebody I didn't like very much." He then took her gloved hands and held them underneath the comforter, rubbing them to make sure she was warm.

"Remember when I said that it was my mess, not yours? Well, I meant that. I wasn't just being gallant. I was the one who did everything wrong, not you."

"No, Luke, I―"

"Not you," he said firmly. "Lorelai, I've had years and years to think about what it would be like to have you interested in me. Years to imagine what it'd be like to _be_ with you. And then I did everything wrong. It was the wrong time. You were exhausted and an emotional wreck from the fire. Even for me it was the wrong time. Nicole had literally just walked out of my life only a few hours before. You'd been drinking, and I don't care what you say, alcohol rarely tells the truth. And, man, was it the wrong place. You'd allowed me to see this place that meant so much to you. Your sanctuary. Your castle. This place you'd shared with Rory." He shook his head, still disgusted at his actions. "And here I was, trying to defile everything it meant to you. I couldn't have picked a worse place."

He felt her staring at him, and finally he turned his head to meet her gaze. "I feel like the biggest jerk in the world. I'm so sorry about how I treated you. I'm so sorry about everything."

She continued to gaze at him for a few more moments. She squeezed his hand, then soberly looked out over the square.

"You're right, Luke, the potting shed does mean a lot to me." He watched her eyes trace over the twinkle lights vining around the gazebo. "I grew up there. Rory grew up there. I figured out how to be a mom there. Lots of stuff happened there. Good stuff. Nice memories. But no guys. The only guys ever in my bed were Prince Charming and Ken. And maybe Mr. Potato Head a time or two. And let me tell you," she said emphatically, "I spent a lot of nights fantasizing about how perfect the guy would have to be to finally join me there." She swung her face around and looked at him directly. "Frankly, I couldn't think of a better place for us to make love for the first time."

His heart stopped as he stared at her. His brain tried to dissect what she'd just said.

"F-first time?" he finally stuttered out.

"Well, yeah." She looked back across the street, but he could see her lips turning up in a smile. "I'm not a one-night-stand type of gal. And I never thought you were the love 'em and leave 'em type of guy. But maybe you are. Maybe you've got a little black book tucked away in your safe upstairs."

"So are you saying…" His eyes darted around, trying to decide how to phrase it. "Do you see us as a…couple?"

"Luke! Hello?" She drew her hands out from under the covers and waggled her index fingers at him. "Did you forget my demonstration from the other night? You and me, remember?" She rubbed her fingers against each other. "I can get more graphic, if you want," she offered. She pushed her fingers together and started making kissing sounds.

"Stop," he said, putting his hand over hers and effectively blocking the demonstration. He smiled, but his heart wasn't in it, and she could tell.

"Hey," she said gently, bumping against his shoulder. "Tell me what else is going on up here." She ran her fingers lightly through his hair.

He folded his arms, biting down on his bottom lip as he debated the pros and cons of being completely honest with her. At last the words came out. "I don't want to lose you."

She scrunched up her forehead, puzzled, staring at him. "You're not. That's why I'm here."

He shook his head, stone-faced. "I don't mean now. I mean later. What if we try, and then you decide I'm not the guy you want after all. I'm not sure I could―" His throat suddenly closed down on him, and the next words came out all hoarse. "I don't think I could stand that."

She put her hand on his knee but didn't look at him. She took her time gathering her thoughts. "I had a lot of years at the Independence. They were good years, and if they're over now…Well, that makes me really sad. It breaks my heart, actually. But I still wouldn't give up those years, just so I wouldn't feel sad now." She rubbed his knee. "I'd like to promise you that I'm not ever going to leave you, but I don't know that for sure. It might be that we try this and find out we hate each other. I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. But I'd like to try." She leaned over against him, putting her head on his shoulder. "I'm here right now, Luke, fighting for you. You've known me for a lot of years. You know I've never done anything like this before."

"Yeah," he sighed. He put his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. He laid his head down against hers, rubbing against it softly, needing to confirm that she was really here with him.

After some minutes of companionable silence, Lorelai spoke up. "I know that you're not a spur of the moment guy, so if you need some time to think about this―"

"No. I know. I've always known," he spoke up. "I want this. I want to try."

"Good," she said, sounding relieved. Playfully she held out her hand. "Deal?"

"Deal," he agreed at once, enfolding her hand. He raised it up then, in front of them. "Which one's you again?" he asked, lightly skimming over her fingers.

"This one," she smiled, wiggling it at him.

"Oh, yeah." He stripped off her glove and lowered his head, kissing the pad of her index finger, watching her. He both felt and saw the shiver run through her.

"Oh, God," she exhaled dreamily. "I mean, good. Good deal."

"Mmm," he agreed. He dropped his hand and reached for her face, pulling her towards him. Right before he reached her lips, he paused, letting the anticipation wash over them. Then he couldn't stand it anymore and latched his lips to hers, his heart soaring when they connected once again.

"Sealed with a kiss," she whispered happily, once they'd broken apart.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close to him as he could. "I was on my way over to your house," he whispered against her hair.

The glow from her smiling face gave off a warmth he swore he could feel. "Really?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm," he confirmed. "I couldn't stand knowing I'd hurt you. I didn't know what I was going to say, but I thought maybe I could just sit on your porch until you came out, and then hopefully the words would come."

"Great minds," she said happily, her voice sounding a little drowsy.

"Were you really going to sit out here every night, if you had to?"

"Yep." She shrugged, snuggling a little closer to him. "It's really not so bad. I just wish I would've brought a cushion."

"You must be freezing," he fretted, drawing the blanket further up on her arms.

"Not really," she said, trying not to yawn. "I've got some of those heater pack things in my pockets that hunters use."

He smiled at that. "Does Rory know where you are?"

She closed her eyes, leaning heavily against him. "Who do you think bought me the heater pack things?"

He stood up, helping her up too, before she could topple over. "Come on."

"No, Luke," she whined like a sleepy toddler. "I don't want to go yet! We just made up!"

He hugged her to him, kissing the hair right above her ear but below the knitted cap. "Come upstairs with me. Let's get some sleep."

She leaned away from him, trying to glare suspiciously. "I expected something better from you, Luke. That's not even a line! You could at least try to entice me with your etchings!"

He chuckled a little, which was something he thought he'd never do again just a few hours ago. "You know Jess is up there. We'll be properly chaperoned. But we're both exhausted." He tipped her head up and kissed her lips slowly. "I don't want to let you go yet. I think we'll both sleep better together."

"Lead the way, you sweet talker," she agreed.

He helped her gather up her comforter and opened the door to the diner. She stumbled on legs that had gone numb during her vigil, and he put his arm around her and steered her to the stairs.

When they were nearly to the top he pushed on her shoulder for her to sit down, and she was so tired that she did it without question. He backed up several steps below her and carefully raised one of her feet to rest on his thigh. He untied her shoe and slowly eased it off of her foot, taking the time to let his hand rub across the arch and then her ankle, and even boldly under the hem of her jeans, sliding up her shin. He listened to her take several quivering breaths when he did the same thing to the other foot.

"Damn," she groaned, when he'd finished and was helping her off with her coat. "You are so good at that. If I had any energy left at all, I'd have you downstairs right now, acting out a couple of diner fantasies I've always had."

"Tomorrow," he muttered, finding it difficult under the circumstances to give the words his normal deadpan delivery. "I'll reserve us a table."

Lorelai hooted with laughter, then clapped a hand over her mouth, remembering that Jess was asleep just inside the door. "You're good," she told him in delight, throwing her arms around his neck.

"You don't know that for sure, yet," he reminded her, smiling against her hair. He pulled off the knitted cap, running his hand through her wild curls.

"I think I know," she whispered into his ear, the sexiness factor losing a little something when she yawned again.

"Come on," he urged. He opened the apartment door and guided her through the dark room to his bed.

"You think we'll fit?" she whispered doubtfully into his ear.

"I'll make us fit," he replied confidently.

A giggle escaped. "That's what he said."

"Shhh." He pushed at her shoulder gently. "Lay down."

His heart flopped over as he watched her stretch out on his bed. He took a calming breath and flung her comforter over the bed, making sure her feet were covered before he climbed in beside her, facing her. He got his arm under the cover and pushed on the small of her back, drawing her as close to him as possible.

She gave a little moan at the contact. "Shhh," he reminded her again. "But..._yeah_," he sighed into her ear.

They kissed dozens of times, their mouths brushing over cheeks and noses, lips and ears. Her top had ridden up and Luke found that perfect strip of skin that lived in his dreams. He rubbed her back comfortingly, and soon he felt her breathing even out and deepen.

He was drifting towards sleep too, when one last thought came to him. "Lorelai," he breathed out, so quietly that it wasn't even a whisper. He didn't want to wake her if she was truly asleep.

Her fingers rubbed soft circles against his shoulder.

"Thank you," he whispered to her.

"Hmm?"

"For not giving up on me," he clarified, still holding her close. "For fighting for me."

She nuzzled her face against his neck. "You'd do the same for me," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

His eyes blinked in the dark, the truth of that washing over him. "Yeah," he agreed. "I would."

They cuddled together and sleep peacefully settled over them both.

* * *

The next morning Luke kept a close eye on the diner clock. When the numbers clicked to 6:45 he marched to the phone on the wall and dialed the Gilmore's phone.

"Um, Rory," he said tentatively, when she picked up the phone on the sixth ring. He hadn't really planned out what he was going to say. "Uh, this is Luke. Luke Danes."

She giggled. "Yeah, Luke. I know it's you."

"Oh. OK," he breathed out. "Listen, um, I wasn't sure if you knew or not, but, uh, your mom―she's over here. She's here with me. Well, she's not right here with me," he rambled on, suddenly worried that Rory would ask to speak to her. "She's still upstairs in bed. She's asleep." His eyes opened wide as he realized how that sounded. "Not _with_ me," he hurriedly explained. "I'm down here. In the diner." He shut his eyes and shook his head, realizing that every word he said just made it worse.

It sounded like Rory choked off another giggle. "So did you guys reach an understanding?" she asked, managing to sound serious.

"Yeah, we did," he confirmed.

"Good," she said happily. "And that means the two of you are on the same page?" she asked, a sudden sharper note in her voice.

"We are," he agreed, his voice going solemnly deeper.

"Good," she sighed. "Does that mean we'll be seeing more of you over here?"

"Probably," he smiled.

"That's a relief," he heard her mutter. "So. Double dates. Pro or con?"

"What?" he asked, flustered.

"You and Mom, me and Jess. Ooh, just think of the fun we can have!"

"Rory―"

"Oh, I can't wait to tell Jess! He's going to be so excited! This is like a dream come true! Maybe we can all go see a movie over the weekend."

"Go to school, Rory," he growled, a tiny smile still curling his lips.

"Tell Mom I'm taking the Jeep today. She won't need it."

"OK," he agreed.

"Luke?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really happy about this."

"Me too," he said softly. "Have a good day at school."

"You have a good day, too," she said pertly. She paused. "But with Mom there with you I'm sure you will." She paused again, apparently registering what she'd just said. "I mean, because she'll be happy, you know? I mean, because you guys made up, and you'll be together, and―You know what? I'm hanging up now."

"Bye, Rory," he said gently, helping her out of the awkward conversation.

"Bye, Luke," she said gratefully.

* * *

It was going on 11 before Lorelai's slightly embarrassed face peeked out from under the curtain. She had on her coat and was trying to maneuver the clumsily bundled comforter in her arms.

"Sorry," she said, as soon as Luke approached her. "I didn't mean to sleep so long."

"I'm glad you were able to," he told her, his hand lighting on her shoulder, unconsciously rubbing it. "You want something to eat?"

She ducked her head, smiling, but something told him she was a little ill at ease. "Um, waffles?"

"Sure," he agreed at once.

She smiled a little brighter, but shook her head. "You'll probably need to work on building up some resistance. Otherwise I'll take advantage and order everything on the menu." She started to head over to her favorite stool.

"Not there," he said, grabbing her arm. "Our table's over here." He pointed her to a table in the corner, where he'd placed a "Reserved" sign printed on a piece of cardboard.

He watched her eyes light up, recalling their early morning conversation. She turned to him, laughing, her face beaming. He seated her and she looked up at him, grinning in delight. "Are you sure the Board of Health won't fine you for this?"

"I'll bribe 'em," Luke assured her. He brushed his hand over her shoulder and arm one more time before heading off to the kitchen to make her waffles.

When he brought them out she inhaled her food in record time. "Sorry," she winced, anticipating his lecture. "I really haven't eaten very much the last couple of days."

"I understand," he said. "Do you want some more?"

She looked at him sharply. "Luke, you're really going to need to beef up your resistance. You know I'll walk all over you if you let me."

He shrugged, looking off over her shoulder. "Don't worry about that. I'm sure the charm will wear off eventually," he said dryly. "But today…" He looked down at her, smiling gently. "Today you get anything you want."

"Really?" she drawled out, raising her eyebrows speculatively. "Anything? You'll get me a pony?"

He grabbed her hands and pulled her up from her chair. "If a pony's really what you want, I'll get you a pony," he promised. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her mouth. He kept the kiss brief, but the intensity of it sizzled on their lips.

"I don't want a pony," she sputtered out, gasping for a breath.

"No? OK. Well, you think today about what you do want, then," he advised her. "You can tell me when I pick you up around 7."

She beamed at him again. "You're taking me out?"

"Yep," he confirmed.

"Someplace special?"

"Really special."

"What should I wear?"

"Something casual." She looked at him doubtfully, so he rushed to assure her. "It's special, but cozy. Wear anything you want."

He walked her to the door, and once there he gave her another brief, intense kiss, because truthfully he really couldn't resist her.

"Um, Luke," she mumbled, ducking her shoulder towards the few diner patrons in attendance, none of whom were any of the town regulars.

"I don't care who knows. Do you?" he asked.

"No," she agreed. She smiled and rose up on her tiptoes, kissing him again. "See you at 7," she said giddily, and left the diner.

He watched her until she was out of sight, appreciating the view. Then he turned, smiling, back to the diner. He looked at the clock, confirming that all of his employees should be turning up soon. He'd called in everybody to take over for him the rest of the day. He had a lot of plans to accomplish before 7. Hopefully a nap would also be included.

He started to walk briskly to Lorelai's table to clear it. He stopped and shook his head when he saw that her forgotten comforter still spilled over two of the chairs and down onto the floor.

* * *

"Oh! You're really taking me somewhere?" Lorelai asked, sounding perplexed, as they drove through the center of town that evening.

"Well, yeah. That's the plan, right?" Luke replied, all sorts of doubts suddenly assailing him.

"Right, right!" she agreed at once, too heartily. "I don't know why, I thought maybe you were just going to cook for me at your place."

Luke felt the scowl settle on his face while he chewed the inside of his cheek in indecision. His careful plan had seemed perfect up until a few moments ago. Now he wasn't sure about anything.

He knew they were both nervous, and the idea that Lorelai was nervous about anything was freaking him out. He knew she wanted this night as much as he did because when he'd shown up at her place a good fifteen minutes early, she was already dressed and waiting on him. She'd hugged him and given him a shy kiss on the cheek, even with Rory seated just a few feet away, the grin on the girl's face giving away the fact that she wasn't really reading the book in front of her.

"I've relaxed her curfew for tonight," Rory had told him as they headed for the door. "Lane's going to come over and spend the night watching forbidden movies with me, so don't worry about me being by myself. You young folks just have a good time, you hear?"

"Thanks, Mom," Lorelai mocked, rolling her eyes for Luke's benefit. She'd grasped his hand and pulled him out the door.

"Don't forget about our double date!" Rory yelled from the living room, just before Lorelai shut the door soundly.

The next awkwardness occurred when Luke escorted her around the truck, opening the door to help her in. Shame nearly suffocated him when he recalled how he'd forced her out of the truck two nights before.

He passed a hand over his face and cleared his throat in discomfort, trying to find the right combination of words to tell her how ashamed he still was.

"Again, Lorelai, I'm so, so sorry―"

"Hey." She leaned over from fastening her seatbelt, putting one hand on his shoulder. The other hand raised his face so he could see her. "We've moved on from there," she said, ever-so-gently. "That's old news now."

"Right," he agreed, mesmerized by her dazzling eyes. He came back to earth, shut her door, and hurried around to his side.

After that, the nervous silence had filled the cab of the truck.

Now he once again reviewed his plans for their night. Things that he'd been so proud to think up now struck him as silly and presumptuous. Panic started to fill up his mind.

"Luke," Lorelai said, in a way that made him think it wasn't the first time she'd tried to get his attention.

"What?" he barked out.

She smiled and reached over and put her hand right above his knee, squeezing gently. "Wherever you're taking me, it'll be fine. We'll have fun," she promised him. As she leaned back into her seat, she gave him a wink. "And I'll tell you a secret: even if this night completely sucks, I'll still go out with you again."

"Right," he breathed out, trying to relax. "But if you hate the idea, once we get there, tell me, OK? We'll go somewhere else."

She looked at him curiously. "OK."

He gulped and drew in a deep breath and turned into the driveway of the Independence Inn.

"Oh, Luke," she said, and her voice was a mixture of surprise and happiness and…something else that he couldn't quite name.

The police tape had been taken down and in its place was a sign stating that only persons with approval from the owners of the property were allowed on the premises. Luke drove around the sign and parked back behind the kitchen area, as close to the potting shed as it was possible to get.

"OK?" he asked, still able to hear the nerves in his voice.

"Perfect," Lorelai replied, a humorous…no, pleased…maybe satisfied note in her voice. He still couldn't dissect what it was.

She hopped out of the cab before he could get around to her so her offered her his hand and together they walked up the path to the little cottage.

"Oh!" As they got closer, she pointed to the grill he'd set up earlier in the day right beside the front door. "You are cooking for me!"

"That's the plan," he confirmed. While Lorelai reached behind the shutter for the key, he opened the lid of the grill just long enough to verify that the coals were ready to cook their dinner.

Lorelai opened the door and they stepped inside. She sniffed in appreciation while Luke rushed to light the kerosene lamp on the counter.

When he turned back from that task, Lorelai had her face buried in a bouquet of lilacs, forsythia and pussy willows sitting in the center of the table. "So pretty," she said, a particular softness throbbing in her voice that made him swallow hard. "Thank you."

He nodded, pleased that she was pleased, and went over to the pot-bellied stove in the corner of the room. He opened the stove's door, putting in some more coal. The room wasn't exactly toasty, but it had definitely taken the chill off.

He hurried back over to the table, pulling out a chair for her to sit upon. She started to take off her coat, so he helped her with that first. It made him smile that they'd both worn their brown leather coats tonight.

He tried not to get too distracted by what else she was wearing. The short black skirt and tall black boots had piqued his interest as soon as his eyes landed on her back at the house. Now that the coat was coming off he saw that she had on a fire-red sweater that dipped down in the front just enough to make his mouth water. The color set off her pale skin to perfection and made her cheeks glow. "So pretty," he said thickly, echoing her words about the flowers back at her. He rubbed the soft knit material on her arm.

"You look pretty good, too," she cooed back at him, laying her hand flat on his chest. He had on black dress pants and the black sweater she'd picked out for him years ago. He could tell she knew it was that one by the proprietary way she was eying it.

"I'm going to go get our dinner started," he told her. "But here, I've got something to start with." He pulled out a plate of cheese and crackers from an ice chest on the floor. Then he grabbed a bottle of wine from the counter and filled two glasses.

"So prepared." She studied him, cocking her head in appreciation. "Boy Scout, I presume?"

"Of course." He smiled. "Or maybe I just believe in their motto," he suggested before he rushed outside.

When he came inside a few minutes later, the small space seemed to be glowing with dozens of tiny candles in miniature, clear jars. Two tall tapers were burning in matching brass holders in the center of the table. He stopped in surprise and looked around as he began to take off his coat.

"I found some candles," Lorelai said easily.

He realized he heard music. He turned and spotted a small portable radio on the counter behind him.

"And a radio," Lorelai added, with just a touch of defensiveness in her voice.

She'd tuned into a station that specialized in music from their teen years. This time of night they usually only played the softer ballads.

"Nice," he said, meaning it.

"I think so," she said.

He'd set the table earlier in the day when he'd brought over most of the other things. Now he pulled out a take-out box from the cooler and divided up a salad between their plates.

"Salad?" Even while frowning she still managed to look gorgeous. "Really? You're making me eat salad?"

"Yes," he said simply. He tilted her head up and bent down to give her a lingering kiss. "It's good for you," he said, hoping he didn't sound too breathless.

She drew in several deep breaths of her own. "OK," she said, in a trance, and obediently started to eat the salad.

Luke apologized for having to keep jumping up and down to check on the food grilling outside, but finally he was able to bring in a plate full of skewered meats and vegetables and a skillet of bubbling potatoes.

"Wow! That smells fantastic!" Lorelai's head whipped around as soon as he entered the door.

"Beef or chicken?" he asked, pointing to the kebobs.

"Do you have to ask? Both!" she demanded, her smile wide.

He carefully unloaded two of the skewers onto her plate. She was fairly dancing in her seat, anxiously waiting to try them.

"This is really good!" she praised him, fanning her mouth a little bit because of course she couldn't wait until it had cooled enough. "You need to make these in the diner."

He nodded and ducked his head, pleased she liked them.

She gobbled some more, then paused, chewing more thoughtfully. "Lime?" she finally asked.

He nodded again. "Yeah, I marinated the chicken and beef in some lime juice." He took a bite himself. "And tequila," he added, grinning.

She laughed. "Good choice!"

"Thought you might like it," he admitted.

Their awkwardness faded as they sat and ate together, the act of Luke cooking and Lorelai eating making it seem more natural. They chatted comfortably, just like old friends should. Every now and then the fact that they were here, together― _together-together_― made their eyes widen in realization and the words catch in their throats, but as the evening wore on those glitches passed away.

For dessert Luke grilled slices of pound cake, over which he poured a peach sauce that had been simmering on top of the stove.

Lorelai appeared to be in heaven. "This is _so_ good," she moaned, for perhaps the twentieth time. "This beats anything Sookie makes."

"Now I know you're lying," Luke protested. His eyes were arrested when she deliberately dipped her right index finger into the sauce and licked it off, her eyes meeting his in challenge. He was about to tell her to knock it off or beg her to let him do that―he wasn't sure which―when an authoritative fist pounded on the door.

They both jumped and looked at each other guiltily. The fist pounded again. Luke got up and went cautiously to the door, Lorelai tucked behind him.

He opened the door slightly and Deputy Larry Coopersmith looked him over before shifting his eyes over to Lorelai. "Evening, Lorelai," Coop said. "Everything all right here?"

"Oh, yes, Larry, everything's fine," Lorelai rushed to assure him. "Luke and I are, um, we're just, uh, checking to make sure that, um, the fire didn't damage anything back here."

Coop kept his face straight. "Good idea," he said wryly. "You can't be too careful." His gaze flicked over the candles and their wine glasses on the table.

"Right, right, that's what I think," Lorelai agreed, shooting him one of her blinding smiles.

"Well…" he gave them both a sly look. "I guess I'll just tell the rest of the force that they don't need to patrol back here tonight. You know, we've been doing that since the fire."

Luke sucked in a breath and Lorelai jumped in. "Right. No need for a patrol. Everything's fine back here," she rushed to assure him again.

"Thanks, Coop," Luke said gruffly, and watched as the deputy gave him either a look of warning or maybe of congratulations. He was too embarrassed to look at him closely enough to determine which.

"Goodnight folks," Coop said pleasantly, turning from the doorway and heading back down the path to his patrol car.

* * *

Both of them drank in a breath of relief, watching Coop leave. Luke shut the door and they moved back towards the table, but Lorelai could feel that awkwardness had snuck back in with the interruption.

She didn't like that.

She reached out and caught Luke's arm before he could sit back down. "Dance with me?" she urged, putting everything she had into trying to look enticing.

He examined her, in the calculating the way he did sometimes, like he was weighing physical pleasure against whatever she could find to mock him with.

"No hidden agenda," she promised him, pulling him gently towards the small open space in the room. "Just want to be with you," she added softly, putting her arms up around his neck. She stepped closer to him, swaying her body against his in time to the music. "Just want to feel you against me," she sighed into his ear.

She felt the jolt that passed through his body. His arms circled around her, his hands pressing against her back, drawing her close.

They both knew they weren't dancing. The music was just an excuse to hold each other. An excuse for their bodies to mold together. An excuse for their hands to greedily feel the sweaters covering the skin on their backs.

She felt his breathing change. She trembled as he reached a hand to her face. She let the hot rush of need wash over her when his mouth finally joined with hers. She gave him everything and more, hoping he could feel how much that was.

They were both a little shaky when they pulled back. She put her hands against his arms and pushed a little bit more, needing some space away from him so that she could talk. She didn't want any secrets at all. Not from him. Not any more.

"So I should tell you something," she started, her eyes darting, and she could sense him tensing up, worrying about what she was going to say. She rushed to say it, not wanting him to worry for long. "I came over here this afternoon, probably before you did." She rubbed her hands up and down his arms, not meeting his eyes. "I brought over the candles. And the radio. I wasn't sure how I was going to convince you, but I was hoping to end our date here tonight."

He studied her for a minute, then his mouth tilted sideways in that smile she loved so much but saw so rarely. "There's that great minds thing again, huh?"

"Yeah," she smiled, her insides quivering with her need and the nerves.

He looked around, and his face looked grimmer when he met hers again. "I wanted to try and erase what happened here the other night. I was hoping we could exchange that for a better memory."

She gulped and licked at her dry lips. "I don't want to totally erase the other night, though. Most of it was really nice. The part where we admitted how we felt to each other. That was exceptionally nice."

"It was," Luke agreed, staring at her intently. He started to reach for her, but she evaded him and walked over to the bed.

"There's…There's more," she said in a rush. She bent over at the waist, grasping the bedspread. Her expertise as a maid came back to her as she expertly turned down the bed. "I put some fresh sheets on the bed. Added some blankets. I thought…I thought that maybe―"

Her voice choked off when Luke pressed himself up behind her, grasping her hips and pulling her back against him.

"God, you're gorgeous," he growled.

She straightened up and one of his hands migrated upwards, cradling the undersides of her breasts, one of his thumbs pushing its way into the valley between them. His other hand went south, smoothing over her short skirt, his long fingers reaching down as far as he could.

His mouth found her neck and she was so close to completely melting in his arms. "I…I brought a nightgown," she managed to murmur, quivering under his touch.

"Save it for another time," he advised, turning her in his arms. "Won't need it tonight." His mouth came down on hers, drinking her in.

They kissed and moaned and moved against each other with purpose, trying to drive each other crazy. With her last bit of strength, Lorelai pushed away again.

"There's something else I need to tell you," she panted out.

She watched as he pulled himself together and tried to hold himself back. "Sure," he said, swallowing hard. "Go ahead." He crossed his arms and tried to look at her seriously.

She felt a grin pop out on her face. He was so expecting the 'responsibility' talk. As far as she was concerned, Luke personified responsibility. There was no need to talk about it.

"I wanted to say this now," she started, biting her lip. She hadn't expected this part of the confession to be so hard, but he was looking at her so intently, and she knew what she was going to say was a big deal. She didn't want to mess it up. "I want to say it now, because if I say it later, you might just think I'm saying it because of what we're doing, and I don't want you to think that. And I don't want it to get lost in anything else that's going on."

"OK," he said, looking a little concerned.

"OK." She blew out a breath. "You know how you don't know what you don't know until you find out differently?" His face was starting to harden into those lines that meant he was losing patience, so she rushed on. "I had Rory, and this eternal flame of love just lit up inside me. I loved her so much, Luke. It was just this immediate, all-consuming thing. I knew I'd do anything to protect her. I knew I'd do anything to make sure she was happy."

"Of course you would," he agreed, nodding. The impatience had faded.

"Well, you know I've had guys in my life, through the years." He nodded again, but looked sterner, and once again she rushed. "And with some of them, I figured I loved them, you know? I mean, it wasn't a Rory sort of love, but I figured that was because mother love was a totally different feeling than guy love. I thought I had it figured out." She took in a deep breath, preparing to go all the way with this. "I've been…I've been thinking about this a lot, Luke. Ever since that night with the Poes I've been thinking about this. Maybe…Maybe a lot longer than that. And what I think is…What I _know_ is…" She looked at him, held his eyes with hers. "I have Rory-level love for you, Luke. I'd do anything to protect you. I'd do anything to make you happy." She gave a helpless little shrug, not knowing what else to say. "I…I love you, Luke."

He stopped breathing completely, staring at her. Just as she was beginning to fidget nervously, scared that she'd completely ruined things, his chin tipped up and he closed his eyes in what looked like relief. The next second he grabbed her, pressing her against him almost frantically.

"I need you now," he insisted. "I need to feel you. I need―"

He pushed back on her shoulders, easing her back until she was draped across the bed sideways, the end of her short skirt on the edge of the mattress, her boots still on the floor. He stepped between her legs and raised one of them to his chest. His eyes locked on hers. Deliberately he took her leg and pulled down on the zipper, slowly pulling the leather off of her. He placed her bare foot over his shoulder and started on the other leg.

Air hissed out of her lungs as she tried to catch hold of some control, her hands grasping at the blankets under her.

His hands slowly slid up the length of her legs on the outside. He pushed up her skirt as he reached her hips, his hands rubbing over the sides of her lacy panties. He brought his hands back to where her ankles lay next to his face, turning to kiss each of them in turn. Then he started back up her legs, this time on the inside.

"Oh, God," she breathed out, writhing uncontrollably.

He chuckled, but she could hear his breath hitching about every other inch as his hands moved upwards. Finally his fingers reached her apex and he paused, teasing the lace he found there.

"Well, this answers an important question for me," he said, his voice strained.

She knew what he was doing. He was trying to calm them both down, trying to inject their particular brand of humor into this moment. "What?" she gasped out, her body still moving about, trying to connect with his fingers.

"I always wondered if your legs stopped somewhere." He closed his eyes, his fingers digging into her upper thighs while he fought for control. "I thought maybe they went on forever."

She pressed her ankles tighter against his face, making his eyes leap open. "Maybe you'd better check again," she urged him.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice slick with need, and his fingers once again found her center.

She surprised them both by launching herself upwards, scrambling up until her feet were back on the ground and she was pressing herself wantonly against him.

"Me too," she told him, desperately, her hands claiming every inch of him that she could find. "I need to feel you, too. I need you. Now."

He looked at her, swallowing down his own desperation. "Lorelai―"

"Now," she pleaded. "We need now. There's all night. There will be other nights. But right now, we need the now."

She couldn't read his eyes. They darted everywhere over her face. Suddenly he reached for her waist. He grabbed at her sweater and in one movement, yanked it over her head.

She gasped out as the cooler air hit her hot skin. She never expected him to do something like that.

He reached a hand to the back of her neck and pulled her towards him, closing his eyes while he lowered his mouth to hers.

"Wait, wait," she urged. She grabbed his sweater and tried to pull it off him. He took over and tossed it on the floor. His chest was heaving as he looked at her solemnly.

"Now," he said simply, advancing on her.

"Now's good," she agreed, running her hands over him. She closed her eyes and sank against him, giving herself over completely to the pleasure of being with him.

The man she loved.

* * *

They lay cuddled together under the extra blankets. Her back was to his front, and he was lazily tracing light-as-a-feather circles around her navel, making all sorts of delicious shivers run through her.

She pressed herself back against him and rubbed his arm that was cradling her stomach. She was so light and happy she was afraid that without the covers she might float up to the ceiling.

"You did this bed proud," she told him, trying not to sound too pleased. "I think you pretty much satisfied every fantasy I ever had while I lived here."

"Really?" He raised himself up on one elbow and tugged her over on her back, so he could look at her. He gently rapped his knuckles against her head. "The dirty mind you've got, and_ that_ satisfied your fantasies?"

"For now," she smiled, raising her eyebrows.

"Hmmm." He kept looking down at her, bemused. "Well, it didn't satisfy all of mine." He threw back the covers and slid out of bed, pulling her out with him.

"Com'ere," he said gruffly, while a thrill shot through every cell of her body.

* * *

Much later they lay tangled together again, warm under the blankets even though the stove had long ago exhausted its store of heat. Sleep was rapidly pulling them under.

"Lorelai," she heard him say, softly. "Baby. Don't go to sleep yet."

Normally she didn't like guys to call her the little pet names. But the sound of Luke's voice saying it made all sorts of good things flow through her body. It made her heart swell up in love.

She patted his cheek drowsily. "I admire your stamina, Butch, I really do. But I've got to get some sleep."

He chuckled a little. "No, it's not that. I just need to talk to you a little bit. Can you wake up? Please?"

She opened one eye. "What is it?"

He exhaled a deep breath before propping himself up on one elbow again, facing her. "I just realized I didn't answer you, before."

She frowned, going back over the night hurriedly, her mind hanging up over some especially memorable parts. "When?"

"When you told me that you loved me."

"Oh, Luke…" She started to shake her head. "You don't have to -"

"No, no, that's the thing," he said urgently. "I do. I've loved you forever, Lorelai. It's just a fact of life for me. My name's Luke Danes, I live in Stars Hollow, Connecticut, and I love Lorelai Gilmore. I've lived with it so long and known it for so long that it's just another part of my life. I'm so used to loving you that I forgot to actually tell you. I forgot you didn't know."

Lorelai blinked several times. "You…You love me?"

"Yeah," he said, so tenderly. He pushed her hair back from her face and then leaned over, kissing her lips with just as much feeling as the first kiss had hours earlier. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she murmured against his skin, holding him tight.

They settled down together again.

"Luke?"

"Hmmm?"

"This might have been the best date ever."

"Not a date," he muttered.

Confusion flared, pushing the sleep away. "It's not?" She felt the heat warming her words as she bit them off. "Just what is it, then?"

She was starting to rise up in agitation, but Luke surrounded her with his arms and pulled her back down, soothing her.

"It's our life," he explained, kissing her temple, and cuddling her against him.

She thought about that. "I like the sound of that," she decided.

She felt him smile against her. "I do, too," he revealed. "Now, go to sleep. We'll have plenty of life to deal with tomorrow."

* * *

Luke was putting the last of the stuff into the truck the next morning when he looked up and saw that Lorelai had moved several yards away. She was standing with her arms crossed, staring at the Inn.

He slowly came up behind her, hoping he wasn't intruding into her memories. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against him, letting his chin nestle against her hair.

"OK?" he asked her, softly.

She let her head fall back against him. "Yeah," she sighed. She continued to stare at the back of the building that housed the kitchen, her eyes scanning over the black grime spiraling up from where windows used to be, the holes now nailed shut with new plywood.

"I'm sorry," he said with all his heart. "I'm sorry you've had to go through this."

His hands were clasped on top of her stomach, and she placed her hands on top of his. After a moment she turned in his arms, putting her hands on his shoulders. She studied him thoughtfully.

"You know, in some ways, sharing last night with you here sort of brought it all to an end. It's like I've accomplished everything I ever dreamed of here. I broke away from my parents' life. I made a home. I raised my daughter. I found a profession. I found friends." She paused a moment, rubbing his jaw. "I found love." Her voice broke, just a little, and Luke rushed to kiss her.

She tried to laugh a little bit, even though she was still blinking back some tears. "You know that Sookie and I have talked forever about opening our own place, and I know that Mia has been ready to let go for a while now. Maybe this is just the push we all needed to move on."

He held her so tight. "I'll help you," he promised. "I'll help you in any way I can."

She laughed again, hardly able to breath in his embrace. "Just keep loving me, OK? Stay in my life." She kissed him, lingering over his lips as long as she dared. "Stay in my dreams," she whispered to him.

"You are my dream," he told her. "You are my life."

She leaned her forehead against his for several long minutes, letting him support her. That was a new feeling for her. It was something she'd fought against for a lot of years, but now she was starting to see that letting someone help her made her stronger; not weaker, which was what she'd always feared.

What was important was finding the right person to ask for help.

She pulled back a little bit, so he could see the light she knew was shining in her eyes. "I was thinking about walking around the place just a little. To kind of say goodbye." She ran her fingers through his short hair. "Would you go with me?"

His face took on the look of exasperation she knew so well. "You _know_ I will."

She grinned, holding out her hand to him while taking several steps away. "Yeah, I do," she said with a laugh, and waited for him to catch up.


End file.
